Nurse Venus
by Tom Sewell
Summary: In the first part of this sequel to "Under Black Wings," Nurse Aino takes on as her patient a disabled ex-gangster, and Makoto finds out what happened to Ami's old love Ryo.
1. Part One: The Burnt Man

**Nurse Venus, Part 1**

A **Sailor Moon** fan fiction by **Thomas Sewell** ([**sewell_thomas@hotmail.com**][1]) 

**Preface **

**Nurse Venus**___is the third arc in my Sailor Moon fanfiction series, following _**Sailor Moon's American Dream**_ and _**Under Black Wings**_. The story starts about eight years after the end of _**Sailor Stars**_ and a little more than a year after the end of _**Wings**_. Usagi has finally married Mamoru, but her days as Sailor Moon seem to be finished. She was partially paralyzed in her final fight and gets around in a wheelchair. _

_At one point, however, Minako almost married Mamoru, and she has a daughter by him . . ._

...... = _A thought quotation._

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Nurse **

MARVELL JONES thought of himself as a businessman. His business happened to be illegal drugs, but if they weren't illegal, they wouldn't be so profitable. Unlike so many of his old friends who joined the gang together in their early teens, he had always understood that it was the business that mattered. By keeping a cooler head, he had outlived all his old friends, become wealthy, and set up his mother in a place in Kensington, in fact one of the places she had toiled for rich white people when Marvell had been a small child. He remembered how his mother had made him be nice to the white people who owned it for giving him clothes their son had outgrown, and toys their son had tired of. Of course, he'd never been allowed to play with their son . . . 

Sitting in his mother's kitchen drinking Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee, trying to keep his mind off the pretty little Filipina maid who had made it--he liked Filipinas a lot, but it was a bad idea to mess with someone his mother liked--he brought up a pleasant memory. The son, that golden white boy who had stolen so much of his mother's love, had died from an overdose. Marvell couldn't be sure that white boy had bought his last stuff from his organization, but it was likely enough . . . his only regret was that he wasn't sure. 

When he'd bought the place, he'd found out white boy's mother didn't remember him at all, barely remembered his mother. 

"Coffee, Mrs. Jones?" asked the maid, bringing Marvell out of his reverie. 

"No, thanks, Aurora. I've had my cup for the day. Could you find something to do somewhere else? I'd like to talk with Marvell alone for awhile." Once she was sure the maid was gone, she filled a glass with warm water, drank some of it, and then sat down to talk. "I want to get another nurse for Kevin, Marvell." 

"What's wrong with Mrs. Little?" asked Marvell Jones.

His mother explained, "She's a fine nurse and a good woman, but Kevin just doesn't care for her. He gets upset before she comes over." 

Marvell shook his head. "All right. I'll look for someone." 

His mother said, "No, you don't have to. I've found someone." 

"You have?" said Marvell dubiously.

His mother said, "Yes. She took care of Mrs. Prizzi until she passed on. She's very sweet. And she's pretty, too. Kevin will like that." 

Marvell said, "Moms, it ain't a good idea to have anyone here who doesn't work for us." Aurora and the other two Filipinas were illegals; Marvell had got them through an Asian gang. They were all very grateful; otherwise they would be whores. Mrs. Little had two sons in the gang, one still alive. 

His mother said, "She'll just be a day nurse. She lives close to here, so she doesn't have to be here more than a few hours a day, just time enough to get Kevin through his therapy. Anyway, Kevin isn't in your business any more." 

Marvell said, "He don't want to be left out, Moms . . . Moms, if you hire her, and she finds out something, you know what I'll have to do." 

His mother said forcefully, "Just keep your mouth shut about your business around Kevin . . . you should never have let him in." 

Marvell took his mother's hand. "You're right about that. I wish I'd never let him in . . . " _But how could I have stopped him?_

After a minute, Mrs. Jones asked, "Are you going to let me do it, son?" 

"Yes. Anything to help Kev," he replied, squeezing her hand. "Just let me have her checked out. She might be a cop, or maybe the cops have a handle on her." He released her hand, and pulled out his PDA. "What's her name?" 

"Miss Aino, A-I-N-O . . ." 

* * *

Marvell's checks on Nurse Minako Aino took a couple of weeks. Professionally, she wasn't as impressive as Mrs. Little: not an R.N. yet, though she had tested once (and failed). She did have a lot of physical therapy in her background. She'd worked in a couple of convalescent hospitals and a board-and-care, but most of her work had been as a private nurse or an unpaid volunteer. He checked and found she had been let go from the board-and-care for complaining about how the clients were being treated. 

Her driver's license was under suspension. She had never got a speeding ticket, but she had a long history of minor accidents. Otherwise, Aino had no criminal record in the United States or Japan. Finally, his contacts in various police departments and federal agencies found no line on her as a suspect, informant, or undercover cop. 

The only thing left was to give her an eyeball check. She lived within easy walking distance of his mother's house, but he didn't even think of walking over from there. He did his walking and jogging on a treadmill. Doing those things outside made him too easy a target. 

His mother had called Aino and asked her to keep herself open while they decided whether or not to take her. But Marvell dropped by without calling. He might miss her, this time, but on the other hand, it was less likely to be a setup, if no one knew when he was coming. 

Marvell Jones remembered the house from his childhood, a mansion that had been around since long before he was born. He did remembered a ring of little nigger jockeys around the front driveway. Those were gone. The pillars and trim, white before, were now a light gray. It looked less like a fifth-rate Tara. Maybe the new owner had no dreams of happy, hard-working, nigger slaves. 

The owner was D.A. Alvarson, a Swiss citizen. Exactly why Nurse Aino was living here was one of the things Marvell wanted to know before he made his final decision. 

He sent one of his bodyguards up to the door first. While he was waiting for the bodyguard to get an answer, Marvell noticed another thing: the windows were about two inches thick. 

The bodyguard came down. "She's home." 

"All right. You, you come with me, you stay." 

He went up to the door, noting that his men were really looking . . . they were all good. New enough to still have an edge on, but at the job long enough to be smooth. But he'd have to send them out soon; last year's war had left the ranks thin. Plenty of new talent, but not enough managers who were both tough enough and smart enough to make the operation work smoothly. 

As he walked through the entry hall, Marvell was thinking about a cut he needed to make, Jaleel, one of his best men, but one who was getting too big, thinking about taking Marvell's place. The man had put some feelers out to the reds. Unfortunately for Jaleel, the reds thought Marvell was better to do business with now than any new man. _Soon . . . this week._ Marvell had killed many men, and had more killed. Once the decision was made, it should be done quickly. Marvell believed that some people could smell things like this, especially if they were in his business and alive after a few years. He had acted on odd feelings over the years, and had never been sorry that he had. _Better make it messy . . . that will make the others think again._

"Take a seat. Minako will be finished in a few minutes." 

The voice belonged to a woman in a wheelchair. She was blonde and good looking, if you ignored the withered legs under her skirt. 

Marvell replied, "Thank you, Miss . . .?" 

"Mrs. Chiba," the woman said.

Marvell asked, "Would Mr. Alvarson be in, by the way?" 

Mrs. Chiba said, "You mean the owner? No, he's off tending to his business somewhere else. Why would you like to see him?" 

Marvell said, looking around, "I like this house . . . I might buy it." 

"Really?" She had an accent he found hard to place, but he could tell she didn't believe him. She wheeled over to a table, and took something from a small lacquer box. Wheeling back up to him, she held out a card. He took it. It read: 

"THE GREY COMPANY" and gave several mailing addresses, and an internet site. 

"If you can use e-mail, that's probably the quickest way to get an answer. Just put 'attention: D.A. Alvarson.' He reads his e-mail." 

"Thank you." He pocketed the card. 

The woman in the wheelchair moved away, and vanished behind one of the two double stairs. 

Marvell didn't sit, so his guards didn't, either. He strolled around the big front room, which reminded him of a hotel lobby. There were a lot of couches and chairs, and they didn't match. He noticed that most of them were lightweight, except for a few set along the back wall. None of them looked new. 

The tables held various items, and he looked them over. He noticed a stack of coloring books; the box next to it had several hundred crayons. There weren't any televisions showing, or any audio equipment. He did notice some cameras, and pointed them out to his guards. But there were few homes in Kensington without security cameras, including his mother's. 

The woman in the wheelchair reappeared after the promised few minutes, among a few other people: a man and a woman in martial arts pajamas, and a blonde in a leotard and tights. The two martial artists went up the stairs, the woman pausing to give Marvell a penetrating look from the landing before continuing up. The blonde in the leotard, soaked with sweat and showing every seam of her underwear, and the contour of her nipples beneath it, pushed the woman in the wheelchair toward Marvell. They looked a lot alike, a _lot_ alike, but not quite enough to for Marvell to be sure they were related. Perhaps an idle thought, but blood was always a connection worth considering . . . 

The blonde in the leotard stepped around to the side of the woman in the wheelchair, and bowed. Then she held out her hand. "I am Minako Aino, Mr. Jones. I have met your mother." 

Marvell took her hand, and impulsively bent down for a moment to kiss it. He noticed that she did not recoil, though he read trouble in her face. "Nice to meet you at last. I'm sorry I wasn't able to see you sooner." 

Aino said, "I think I understand. You wanted to be careful." 

_She knows the score . . . but no one with enough brains to be any good wouldn't._ Marvell glanced at the one in the wheelchair, but only for a moment. Her eyes were on him, and they were looking far past his face. He looked back at Aino, and said, "Yes. When can you start?" 

Aino said, "Mr. Jones, I like your mother. I want to help her. But before I make _my_ decision, may I meet your brother? The one I will be taking care of?" 

Marvell said, "Fair enough." 

Aino said, "And I want my friend Usagi with me, when we meet." 

"Usagi?" asked Marvell.

"I am Usagi," said the one in the wheelchair. After an awkward interval of silence, she spoke again. "Tonight would be fine. We could have your brother and your mother over for dinner. You and your friends too, if you like. We are used to feeding lots of people." 

"I can borrow Usagi's van to bring your brother," said Aino. "It has a wheelchair lift." 

Marvell thought another moment. "What time do you eat?" 

"Six o'clock," said Aino. "Is that too early? Too late?" 

_Six . . . Time enough to set it up_. "No, not sure I can make it tonight . . . You said you were used to feeding lots of people?" 

Aino said, "Yes. Most of my old friends live here with Usagi and her family. And we have quite a lot of children now. Would that be too much for your brother?" 

"No, no, Kev always liked kids, and Moms . . ." Aino _was_ a charmer; Marvell could see why his mother wanted her for Kevin. Her friend gave him the chills, but she was just a cripple, and a woman, after all. "Give my _mother_ a call, will you? If she agrees, save me and by brothers some plates. I don't know if I'll be able to come, but I'll be disappointed if I can't." He took her hand again, and kissed it. "I hope this isn't the last time I'll see you." 

* * *

Looking at Jones and his gunmen drive away, Minako Aino saw a car pull away a few seconds later. "Someone is following them. Police, probably." 

"Would you like to know what he was thinking about when we invited him to dinner?" asked Usagi. 

Minako said, "How his mother and brother would enjoy having a good meal with others?" 

Usagi said, "Yes . . . and how it would be a good place for him to be while he has another man killed. He wants to kill him with his girlfriend and maybe their baby, so that other men who want to take his place will think they will be risking too much." Usagi wheeled up to Minako and the window she was looking through, and said, "He is probably sending the orders right now. He has something that he thinks makes his cellphone safe. He was thinking about that just as he walked out." 

Minako said, "I won't attack him. That would be betraying his mother." 

Usagi said, "Yes . . . Maybe we can stop the killing. I know the man's name is Jaleel. I will send e-mail to the police tip sites. Perhaps they can save the girlfriend and the baby." 

Minako asked, "Could we find them ourselves?" 

Usagi said, "We only have a few hours. I must tell the police first." 

Minako said, "Yes . . . But we must also warn Mr. Jones." 

"Mr. Jones?" remarked Usagi.

Minako said, "It is not right for his men to be lost to the police because he came to me to get help for his brother. And other people may be hurt or killed if there is a fight between his men and the police. If he is warned, he will call off his men . . . maybe, if there is time." 

Rei came up to them, and Yuuichirou, who said, "You have only just met this Mr. Jones, and already so much trouble. Do you have to do this?" 

The ghost of the General appeared in Minako. "It is not Mr. Jones, it is his mother and his brother . . . Go, help Usagi. We must try to keep any killings from happening." 

"Some day you may have to fight Mr. Jones," said Rei. "Some day, you may have to kill him." 

"Yes. But not today." 

* * *

Kevin Jones could walk . . . but it hurt. Everything hurt, but walking hurt worse than most things he did, so he used a wheelchair most of the time. Walking, or even having his legs moved by Mrs. Little or the other nurses and therapists who Marvell and his mother had found for him, was torture. What was the point? What parts of his legs that didn't hurt were so numb he couldn't walk more than a few steps without stumbling. Canes didn't help; neither of his hands could grip them hard enough. He could manage a walker, but that was for old ladies, not a man. Kevin _was_ still a man; he still had that, even if no woman would ever look at him the way they'd done before . . . 

Kevin wished they would stop making him do therapy, but his mother kept telling him that this new woman would help him. Like she had told him the last one would help him, and the one before that. 

Now they were going to meet the new nurse, actually going out to where she lived. His mother had her mind set on it, so it was going to happen. She had wanted him to dress nice, wear real trousers instead of sweats, a shirt with buttons . . . things he couldn't put on or take off by himself, not really. His mother had dressed him. She wouldn't let the Filipina maids do it. She'd gotten rid of the one who'd used to do what she could with him. His mother had called her a whore, but her touch had been gentle. 

He had to get his mind off that. He said, "Let's see what's on the TV." 

"No, they'll be here in a minute or two." 

_That's what you said ten minutes ago._ Kevin did not say it aloud, of course. 

But before Kevin could think too much more of what he missed, a van pulled up. The side door slid open, and a lift came down. Kevin's hopes that no one would come to pick them up were dashed. But at least he wouldn't have to struggle into and out of a car again. 

He was using one of his powered wheelchairs. His mother didn't like him to use them, but he said they might be out a long time, and she said it was probably all right. 

Someone got out of the van as he came up to the lift. It was a beautiful woman, blonde, blue-eyed--but not quite _white; _her eyes had the folds of an oriental, and her skin was about the shade of the lightest of the Filipinas. _Japanese_, probably; there were a few Japanese who had odd hair and eye colors; quite a few of them were entertainers, so even Kevin Jones knew of them. Or maybe she was just an Amerasian with colored contacts and a good dye job. 

"Let me help you get in," she said, smiling at him. Kevin could see it was a forced smile, but she didn't look away right away, like most women. "All right, this is what you press to get in. Have you used this kind of lift before?" 

"No, not quite like this one," said Kevin.

The woman said, "There are a lot of different kinds . . . can I press it for you?" 

"Please, it's kind of hard." 

She got him inside, and strapped the chair in, making sure he was belted in his chair. It was quite an elaborate harness, and she checked every part of it before she turned away and said to the driver, "We can go now." His mother had taken the seat the woman had been sitting in; she put herself in a little jump seat that folded down behind the driver's seat. 

It was not a long ride at all. They pulled up in front of a big house, one of the biggest. Kevin saw people pouring out of the front door as soon as they stopped. Three men and a tall woman picked up his whole chair and carried him up the steps. Waiting for his mother, he saw one of the men go to the drivers side of the van. The driver was a woman, another blonde who looked a lot like the first one--but when the man picked her up, Kevin saw her skinny legs just hung loose. The tall woman got into the driver's seat, and drove the van away. The man carried the crippled woman in his arms up the steps, past Kevin, into the house. 

Kevin's mother came up the steps with the blonde who had helped him get in and out of the van. She asked, "Don't you have a ramp for wheelchairs?" 

The blonde woman said, "Yes, in the back. But Usagi said it was important for you to come in through the front door." 

The house was full of people, including many children. Soon they were all gathered for dinner. It was a buffet; everyone filled up their plates with what they liked. Some of it was plain American food, and he noticed that most of the children took that. But some was not--he saw a little strawberry-blonde girl put a squid in a hot dog bun. 

The evening wore on, and on. His mother liked this place, and these people. Kevin didn't know. The adults were polite, even thoughtful, but they were distant, except for the blonde that kept helping him, and the cripple--who always seemed to be looking at him when he looked around for her. She had eyes that looked through a person; old eyes, like Marvell's. The kids were mostly okay . . . except the kids who kept going up to the crippled woman the most. Kevin was always catching those three little girls looking at him, too. 

It was a Friday night, and the kids were apparently allowed to stay up late, but they started falling asleep and being carried off. One of them surprised Kevin by coming up to the woman who had been helping him and saying, "Mama, will you put me in bed tonight?" It was one of the girls who had been watching him; he'd thought she belonged to the one in the wheelchair. "His" girl went off with her own little girl. 

Waiting for the blonde helper to come back, Kevin saw that his mother had fallen asleep in a comfortable chair. Someone had covered her with a blanket. He wanted to leave, but he wanted to say goodbye to the woman who had helped him so much. He also needed to pee, badly, but he knew he couldn't manage his zipper, and who would help him with _that?_ In fact . . . he realized he had been there for hours and no one had introduced the nurse who was supposed to be living here. 

At last she came . . . with the lady in the wheelchair. They were alone in the great front room, although Kevin noticed a few faces on the railings high above, probably too far up to hear. 

The cripple said nothing for a long time, staring at him, into him. Finally she said, "Yes." 

The blonde who had helped him said, "Usagi approves. I will start Monday." 

"Start?" blurted Kevin. "_You_ are the nurse?" 

"Yes. I am Aino Minako--Minako Aino, as you would put my names in America. I am the nurse your mother has wanted for you." 

"You are lucky," said the crippled lady. "You are the one . . . and I think you need to visit a toilet now. Minako?" 

Nurse Aino said, "I will help you. Those are nice pants, but they must be difficult." 

"Thank you." 

And he really helped him. She cleaned him off when he was finished, and said, "You must have happy girlfriends." 

He knew she wasn't coming on to him. But that was when he was sure he was in love with her. 

* * *

Chiba Mamoru held his precious Usako in his tiny apartment in Ravenswood. He stroked her hair, once so long, now cut short, and said, "We have not made love here since the night you returned from Nancy's world. Before Chibi-Usa was born." 

Usagi said, "No . . . I thought for so long it would be the last time for so long . . . so long." 

Mamoru asked, "Should we see if Minako's new client has left?" 

Usagi said, "No. I want to spend the rest of the night . . . I want you to be here when I wake up, and make love again before we leave." 

He kissed her, again, and again. But then he asked the question. "Is he the one?" 

"Yes. I am sure of it." 

Mamoru asked, "How can you stand it, then?" 

Usagi sighed, "I have seen his heart . . . he has done bad things, and he does not really understand good and bad the way we do. But Cooan did worse, and I spared her. I have never been sorry I did . . . he was fighting for his family, that is what he felt." 

"And the brother?" asked Mamoru.

"We cannot help fighting him someday, unless someone else defeats him first. One of us might kill him. I hope it is not Minako," said Usagi.

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Lord of the Blues**

MARVELL JONES had expected that his problem with Jaleel would be solved in a few hours. He hadn't _counted_ on it--making too many assumptions was one thing that got you killed in his business. But he was surprised when he heard within hours that the police had been tipped that Jaleel was going to be hit.

The first thing he did was change all the keys to his encryption, especially the one on his car cellphone. Marvell didn't understand the math, but he knew no encryption couldn't be broken. But if it was broken, someone was probably feeding the codes to someone.

The leak could be from anyone who knew about the hit. that could be anyone in the car when he made the call, or the lawyer who he was calling, or any one from the lawyer to the enforcers who would make the hit.

Acting fast was important--but so was acting _smart._ Marvell made himself cold, and thought harder about what had happened. The police were tipped . . . but he had been tipped too. Before any of his warnings from cops who were on his payroll, there'd been a call to his own place. Every call there was recorded, of course, and Marvell had the connections to get just about any call traced. It had come from a woman with a scratchy, nasal voice, and it had been placed from Los Angeles. The woman sounded foreign, but Marvell couldn't place the accent.

That call had come in while he was stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge, no more than half an hour after he had called the lawyer. None of his guards could have made calls. Maybe one of them had a wire . . . but if the cops had gotten that far without his contacts tipping him off, Marvell knew he was finished. He didn't feel like he was finished. 

Probably the lawyer. He was a good asset, but he _was_ a family man. He shouldn't have asked the lawyer to take care of the girl and the kid. He'd been fine fixing other problems. The lawyer would have to go away, but that would take some time to do right. It would have to look like an accident, or a random crime. Marvell was smart enough to know that if other lawyers even _suspected_ that he'd killed one of them, he wouldn't be able to get more than a public defender.

But first, Jaleel had to go. It was going to take a big risk, but Jaleel had to go _now._ The reds would already know about the busted hit on Jaleel. Marvell didn't think they would be able to react for awhile, but that meant a few days, at most. _They_ wouldn't tip off Jaleel if they didn't want to start the war again, and Marvell thought they wouldn't do that unless they were sure they could win. But things could change a lot in a few days.

Maybe there were a few of his men who really thought they were his friend, but Marvell knew he had no friends; the last friends he would ever have were dead. Kev was the only brother he had left, and he should have never got into the business. Dardenella wouldn't speak to him, hadn't since she went off into the Marines. Their mother knew what was what, though Marvell had _never_ let her into the business.

Marvell knew he wasn't immortal. He wasn't going to retire to Florida or Italy or Israel, like those old-time Jewish and Italian gangsters. Not many of them had really done it; but when their time was past, a few of them who didn't matter any more had spent their last few years making up stories. For all the corny movies showing how tough it been for immigrants, they were just more white people. Old white people got to do that.

Not Marvell, or any other _real_ black man. Sports and entertainment were for the ones that turned as white as they could. Marvell's business was the black man's only real way to fuck with the white world. He would die young, but he wouldn't kiss another white ass.

Jaleel, with his white girlfriend that he was talking about marrying . . . was _he _trying to turn white? Not part of the business at all, but an interesting thought. Maybe that was why the reds didn't trust him. But he had been a good man, for the business. Making his move too soon, maybe, but . . . Jaleel wasn't _that_ much different from Marvell. He had had to take risks to get ahead.

And now Marvell had to take risks to stay on top. Jaleel was proving a more interesting problem than Marvell had had in a long time. Either he would solve it, or he would go out memorably. But Jaleel was going to _go,_ _soon_, whatever happened. If he escaped, Marvell's rep would be lost. His rep was his real capital; Marvell had understood this part of the business from the first.

* * *

Detective John Shaw wondered if the laxative he had slipped his partner would _ever _kick in, but it started working at the best time: just when the shift change was happening. "Johnny, I just _gotta_ take a crap!"

"All right . . . are you sick?"

"I'll be all right . . . but I really gotta go."

"All right . . . Use the liquor store around that corner. Show them your badge and tell them Shaw sent you. I know them . . . hey," he added, pulling some bills from his pocket. "Get me a hot dog or something. I didn't eat before I came on."

"All right."

Once his partner was gone, he switched the car radio to citizen's band, found a clear channel, and began rapidly pressing the mike switch. He didn't have to wait long before he heard a Morse code reply. And he didn't have to wait long after that for a surprise. A black youth casually walked around the corner and waved. Then he pulled out a gun, and sprayed into a car across the street.

That wasn't what John Shaw had expected, but he got the idea. Catching sight of his partner running around the corner in back of him, John Shaw sped off, putting the light on the roof and starting the siren. He turned at the intersection the youth had appeared at--the opposite way. He was going to get reviewed on this, maybe fired. But he had taken the money; now his only chance was to make sure they thought he wouldn't turn.

* * *

Jaleel Brown tumbled down from a razor-wired wall the next street back from his apartment. He left the blankets there; they were ripped to shreds now, but he had only a few cuts. He'd left Caitlin with a gun; that was all he could do for her now. Then he heard some popping sounds . . .

"Well, you ain't as stupid as I thought you might be," a voice called out from the darkness. Marvell tossed his gun over the razor-wired wall, and strolled away, making a call on his cellphone. When he connected, 50 kilos of C4 hidden inside of Jaleel Brown's BMW went off, killing Caitlin Terwilliger, Keisha Terwilliger Brown, Officer John Shaw's latest partner, and nine others.

While waiting for his car to come, Marvell Jones made another call, to the lawyer who might be the leak. "Yes, I know it's late. I just wanted you to know I handled the Jay matter myself, so don't worry about it any more. Oh, say hello to the wife and kids. We've all got to get together soon. Real soon . . . don't be a stranger, now."

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Bouquet**

THE MAGIC ROSES that Mamoru conjured with his powers usually faded away after a few moments, but the two dozen he had bound into a wedding bouquet were still there the next day. Kino Makoto, who had caught the bouquet, put them in water then. After two more days, she bought some small pots and planted one in each, just to see if any would root. They all did. They each outgrew two pots, and finally she set them outside, along the iron fences, hoping she would get a few bushes. As she watched Zoë wave from Usagi's van as they went off for the first day of the new school year, she saw noticed how big the bushes had gotten. Most were blooming red, but some had turned to other colors, more colors than Mamoru remembered from any of his forms. The blue one had attracted so much attention Mako had transplanted it again to the back yard, and replaced it with an ordinary rosebush.

Twenty months had passed. The bouquet had thrived, but its promise had not. There were men in Makoto's life, but not a man. There was Zoë, of course, but she was starting middle school now, and Makoto knew the years were flying. Makoto was 26 now, according to the records--and, actually, thirty, thanks to the time-bending journey that had brought her Zoë. Men said Makoto looked younger and she believed most of them were sincere, but Makoto didn't feel young. If anything, she felt older.

Kino Makoto walked along the fence, checking each bush. The one that grew black roses happened to be by the walk-in gate. She noticed that one of the blossoms had fallen whole. She bent down to pick it up, and examine the bush, and had a brief coldness pass through her. _An omen?_ Rei was the great one for those, and sometimes Naru, with the spells she had learned from the little man and the books he had given her. _But . . . _

"Kino-san?" 

The voice startled her. She sprang up, and saw a short man standing just on the other side of the fence. He was holding the hand of a little girl with golden-brown skin. The girl wore a little middie-dress like Usagi had put on her daughters before they decided they wanted to dress like regular American girls all the time. The little girl hid behind the man, peeking out from behind his legs. 

"I am Ms. Kino," Mako replied in English; it was automatic by now. 

The man smiled awkwardly. "I am sorry to startle you." 

Makoto said, "I'm afraid I don't remember you." 

The man said, "I am Urawa Ryo. We met years ago, when I first knew Mizuno-san. We met only once, but I remember you . . . You were tall then, but you are so much taller now, I thought you were an American lady." He paused for a moment, lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry, I am being foolish. I should have called . . ." 

Now Makoto did remember. "Yes, of course . . . You have come here visit Ami?" 

Urawa said, "I hoped . . . This is the last place I knew she was living. I had business in Berkeley, and . . . I thought I would drop by . . . foolish. Perhaps I should go." 

Urawa looked as sad as a person can without crying, touching Makoto's heart. _There is something very wrong here,_ Makoto thought, _Where is his wife? Trouble with her? Can't say anything about that with his little girl right here._ "No, no, come in," said Makoto, punching in the code that unlatched the gate. "Ami is not here, but she wonders what happened to you. We all wonder." 

"All?" asked Urawa.

Makoto said, "Come inside! Look, that cloud! It will be raining here in a minute." 

Once inside, they were alone, a rare occurrence, as Makoto pointed out. "All the babies and tots are at the Mercurius day care center. Usagi's father is on an assignment somewhere and her mother went with him--she does that a lot now. Rei and Yuuchirou are in Japan for a few days. Minako will be with her patient until the children come back. Usagi said she might do some shopping, so I'm not sure when she'll be back. Michiru is performing in Seattle tonight, and of course Haruka is with her. And Setsuna is we don't know where--the usual." 

"I know most of those names only from Ami's old letters, I am afraid." Then Urawa said, "What about Hino-san's grandfather? Does he live here too? Everyone talked about his leaving Hikawa Temple. I know he moved to America to be with Hino-san. I would like to see that old _hentai_ again." 

"I'm sorry, Urawa-san, he passed away . . ." Makoto saw a cloud pass across Ryo's face, and the little girl's. "And who are you?" Makoto asked, kneeling down and sitting on her legs to make her face closer to the child's height. 

"Zara," answered the child.

"Zara? You have a pretty name, Zara-chan. We have something here you might like to do while we grownups talk about our boring grown-up stuff." Makoto took her to the coloring books and showed her the crayons. Zara picked out a picture and started coloring it. 

Easing far enough away from the child to talk privately, but not far enough away to alarm her, Makoto began to talk again. "About Ami . . . " Makoto made her voice gentle but firm. "Ami-chan is married, Urawa-san. She has been married for several years, and she has a child. Hermetia. We call her Erma or Meti-chan. She's a little over a year now." 

Urawa was silent for a long moment, and then said, "I sensed something . . . my old power comes back now, sometimes." Urawa put his head down for awhile, and then brought it up to say, "It was better to hear it from you this way, Kino-san, than over the phone or in a letter. You are a kind person."

"Thank you, Urawa-san." There was an awkward moment, which Makoto ended by looking back at Urawa's daughter. "Zara-chan looks a little small for her age." _Maybe like Chibi-Usa? Or Kimi? Or Ishtar?_ They were all small for their ages now, something that Usagi especially worried about . . . 

"Zara-chan is not quite four," said Urawa. "I think she is going to be a short person, like me. Not like Pritpal."

"Pritpal?" asked Makoto.

"My wife," said Urawa. 

"Oh. If I knew her name, I forgot." Makoto said. Then she turned back to Zara. "Zara is that young? But Ami-chan said you were about to have--" 

Urawa said, "That was Soraya. She was killed with her mother. And my mother, and both of my wife's parents." 

Makoto exclaimed, "Oh, no . . . how?" 

"An airplane crash," said Urawa.

"Like my parents . . ." 

"Not quite," said Urawa. "I saw visions of a plane crashing. _Okasan_ missed Japan, so we we were all going to fly there for our holiday. I got everyone to change their minds. Instead, we went up to Scotland by train. And a plane crashed into the place we were at. I grabbed Zara and got her out. But I could not save anyone else."

"When did this happen?" asked Makoto.

Urawa said, "It was a few days before Christmas, the year before last. I--what's wrong?" 

"Was it the Friday before Christmas?" asked Makoto. Makoto was aware of a familiar squeaking on the floor, but she paid it no mind. 

Urawa, a little put-off, said, "No, actually it was the Saturday. About three in the afternoon. We'd just--Tsukino-san?" 

Usagi answered, "Mrs. Chiba, now . . . Mamoru and I married on that day." 

"What has become of you?" asked Urawa.

Usagi was silent for a notable time. "I am sorry for you, Urawa-san. I know what it is to lose one's child . . . Her name is Zara?" 

"Yes," said Urawa.

Usagi said, "Would you mind if I spend a little time with her now? Makoto, you _need_ to talk to Urawa-san some more." 

Makoto knew the feel of Usagi using her command power now . . . but she did not use it lightly on her friends. "Urawa-san . . . people are going to be stumbling over us if we stay here. Let's go to my room to talk." 

His eyes widened. But he got up and walked away with her. Glancing down from the landing on the way up, Makoto saw Zara give her an uncertain look over her shoulder. She went on. 

Once they were in the room, Makoto swept her arm around. "That is where Minako sleeps. Her daughter Ishtar often sleeps with her. And this is my bed," she said, and sat down on it. "I have an adopted daughter, but she is so grownup, she doesn't sleep with me more than once a week." _After one of her nightmares, but Urawa-san does not need to hear about more nightmares now . . . _ "Her name is Zoë." 

"You have many rooms in this house. It is not like Japan. You have so many here, you cannot have a room of your own?" 

"I could if I wanted." Makoto shrugged. "I have grown so used to it. I have tried sleeping alone, but . . . I do not like to. I prefer sharing this room with Minako . . . I do not sleep alone as well." She was wearing a man's shirt, with pockets, and realized she had stuffed the fallen blossom into one of them--and now it formed an unsightly lump on one of her breasts. She took it out, and showed it to him. "I picked it up, just as you came here . . . it was not clipped; it fell whole. That does not happen very often." 

He took the black blossom from her hand. He looked at it for awhile, and said, "I saw this. I thought of this house. I walked by it. A flower like this fell in front of me. I stepped on it, and walked on into . . . nothing . . . It was when I was thinking of whether to come here today." 

He stepped back to the dresser, set the blossom down, and picked up a picture. Urawa looked at it awhile, and then came to Makoto. He sat down next to her, not quite touching her. "Who are these people? Her? And her?" 

Makoto explained. "That is Chibi-Usa's Aunt Nancy, and that is her stepsister Felicia . . . and that is my Zoë, about three years ago . . . Are you sensing something about them with your power?" 

"I feel something," Urawa said, "Felicia . . . she's tall. Almost like you . . . Pritpal was tall, not like you, but tall . . . Soraya would have been tall like her . . ." 

Makoto took the picture from him, and got up. She set it back in its place, and picked up the blossom. "Does your power tell you anything about me?" 

"I'm not sure," said Urawa.

"Then maybe we have no future," said Makoto.

"Perhaps . . . or maybe our future is here." 

Still holding the blossom, she bent down and kissed him, and let the blossom fall. She undid her jeans, and stepped out of them, putting them on Minako's bed as she returned to hers. Sitting down next to Ryo, she kissed him again. Then she asked, "Has there been anyone since your wife?" 

Ryo said, "Once." 

Makoto said, "I have not been with a man for a long time. Remember that, when you are gone." 

* * *

They made love over and over. The clock marched past noon, past three, past four, past five. Zara came in once to show her father a drawing she had made; she seemed completely unsurprised that they were in bed together, obviously naked under the covers. It was insanity, and it was pure joy, and aching relief, and it came to an end too soon. 

"You are flying out at ten?" asked Makoto as they dressed.

"Yes," replied Ryo.

Makoto said, "Time enough for dinner before you leave. We eat at six . . . I _think. _I do most of the cooking . . . do you have to go tonight?" 

Ryo said, "Yes. I must do something tomorrow. After that--" 

Makoto said, "After that, you will never come back. What we did here today, you will try not to think of." She held him to her bosom like a child. "This was to help you with your pain. I know that. This is not the first time I have helped someone like this. Don't feel guilty. If you do, you will only want to forget me more, and I want you to remember me." 

* * *

They ate dinner together with the others, not the best meal, even considering that Urawa Ryo would be leaving soon after. 

Despite her resolve, she made a big scene when it was time for him to finally go. Before he could get into his car, she picked him up and held him, kissed him, crying like Usagi had used to. Her heart was broken in more bits than ever before, crushed like the blossom she had found on the floor when she changed into the dress she had put on for his last sight of her. 

Suddenly, she was aware they weren't next to the _same_ car. 

Makoto looked down, and Chibi Moon looked back up and said to her primly, "I think you should get married now." 

Makoto looked up. They were in a parking lot, in the back of a building. A sign on a windowless door read: 

"PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING. AUTHORIZED PERSONS ONLY. Service Entrance, Rose Love Chapel." 

The other _senshi_ started popping in about a minute later. 

This time, Minako caught the bouquet. 

* * *

There was a tapping. It was ten in the morning. Makoto felt next to her make sure she was waking up from a dream alone, again. Then she pulled up the covers over Ryo and herself, and said softly, "Come in, Mina-chan." 

But it was not just Minako. Usagi came in as well, and Naru. Naru closed the door once they were all inside. Usagi then said, "Urawa-san, you should think about having Zara stay on with us. Moving here, so she can do that." 

"What?" Ryo was startled at the suggestion.

Naru spoke. "Have you had visions about her? Strange ones? Or dreams?" 

Ryo said, "I have had dreams about her . . . but no visions." 

"What was special about the dreams?" asked Naru.

Ryo said, "I dream that she flies. But everyone can fly in dreams, sometimes." 

"But you dream about that a lot, don't you?" asked Usagi. 

Ryo said, "Yes, I guess . . . what do you mean?" 

Usagi said, "We think Zara is a _senshi. _Kimi-chan says she can see her sigil." 

"She has magic," said Naru. "Strong magic. I sensed it even before Usagi told me. If I can see it with what little I know, it must be very strong magic." 

Ryo shook his head. 

"You are refusing?" asked Minako. 

But Usagi held her back, physically and mentally. "No, he is not . . . You see it now, Urawa-san?" 

"Yes," said Ryo.

Makoto was bewildered. "What, Ryo-chan?" 

Ryo said, "My vision . . . I think it meant there was nothing else but to come here." 

Usagi got that _old_ look in her eyes as she went on. "You wanted just to live a normal life. That is what we all wanted. What we all really want . . . but the power always comes with a price. Always." 

Minako spoke. "None of us are just _senshi._ Zara can have a happy life." 

"Like you?" said Ryo. 

"What do you see?" asked Minako.

"Trouble . . . a lot of it, I'm afraid." 

Minako smiled, but in her eyes, Ryo saw the ancient General within her. "That is not news." 

Makoto decided to break up the meeting. "Well, you did catch the bouquet. That means you'll have a husband soon. And he will be a _lot_ of _trouble._" She touched him under the covers in a spot she knew would have him helplessly laughing in a second. But, while Naru blushed when Ryo's nakedness emerged, with the others, she took her time in leaving, and spent a little too long looking first . . . 

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Day in the Park**

IT WAS A WARM NOVEMBER DAY. The San Francisco Bay Area often has an Indian Summer, and this was one of the best. It was Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. A lot of families were turning out around Lake Merritt with beach blankets and bags of turkey sandwiches and coolers of soft drinks . . . and a little beer; the police usually wouldn't bother anyone who wasn't making trouble. 

No beer for the Jones', though. Jackie Jones had buried two alcoholic partners; no one was going to touch liquor around her, not even Marvell, if he were to show up . . . which was unlikely. If it was just Kevin and Moms, one or two of the maids and Nurse Aino, he well might have, but not if Mrs. Chiba was around. Mrs. Chiba gave Marvell the creepies, and Kevin thought he knew why. She had that _look_, the one Moms could give you, the one that made you think she knew every thing you hoped she didn't. 

Moms liked Mrs. Chiba. She kept trying to get her to come to church. Nurse Aino would come sometimes, but Nurse Aino would do a lot of things she didn't like to make someone feel better. 

But they weren't going to spend all the time with Moms and the crowd of friends Nurse Aino and Mrs. Chiba brought. Today, a special treat. A boat ride, on the lake, just Kevin and Minako--he knew her name but he always called her Nurse Aino because Moms kept correcting him when he didn't. All he had to do was walk down to where the boat was tied up. 

_Walk._

Nurse Aino said, "You are doing well . . . Oh, a little rough place there . . . Good, good . . . Not so far. Take as many steps as you like, what matters is that you get where you want to go . . . and we are here." 

Nurse Aino lifted him up and set him down gently in the boat. He was still amazed at how strong she was; she was tall for a woman, especially a Japanese, but Kevin could see over the top of her head when she was wearing heels and that big ribbon she wore when she didn't wear her nurse's cap. She'd worn spike heels to church once, before Moms told her what was right to wear and what wasn't. Looking up at her after she had made sure he was safely seated, as she put his special canes into the boat before sitting down at the oars, he looked at her long legs and thought . . . she was wearing shorts today, modest enough, and yet they showed all of those long, lovely legs. 

He looked up into her face as she sat down. She smiled, took the oars, and they were off. "Have you ever done this before?" 

"No," said Kevin.

"I mean, anywhere." said Nurse Aino.

Kevin said, "No, nowhere . . . this is nice." 

Nurse Aino said, "I haven't been in a boat like this for a long time . . . when we all lived in _Juubangai_, we would go out on a lake all the time." 

"Jew ban guy?" 

Minako's smile broadened. "It means 'Tenth Street District.' It is a neighborhood in Tokyo. A rich one, though there only one or two houses as big as they are in Kensington. My father . . . the man I thought was my father, he was wealthy. He still is." 

"So he left your moms?" asked Kevin.

Minako said, "Yes . . . years ago, now. Before I came to live here." 

"So that's why you went to work," said Kevin.

Nurse Aino said, "Not really . . . I have good friends with money. And my mother is keeping company with the man who owns the mansion we live in. He is much wealthier than the man I thought was my father. I am not sure they will ever marry, but he is kind and generous . . . though he is always looking up ladies skirts or at their breasts when he can." 

"Well, he's a _man_," said Kevin, laughing, because he couldn't help looking at her breasts when she had said that. 

She looked past him. "I rowed a lot in England, when I was staying there." 

"When was that?" asked Kevin.

Minako seemed to look far away. "A long time ago . . . I was only thirteen, fourteen years old . . . I had this funny cat then . . . and friends I haven't seen for a long time . . . a long, long time." 

There was something . . . "Were you in love back then?" 

Nurse Aino blushed. But she did not giggle. As the color faded, her eyes got old. "Yes. I really was in love with someone. But he was in love with another friend . . . that was not the last time that would happen to me." 

She rowed on for awhile, smiling, just letting him look at her. 

Kevin finally said, "I think the first time I really thought I was in love was when I was eleven." 

"Who was she?" asked Nurse Aino.

"She was my teacher," said Kevin.

Minako said, "Oh, so you have always had this _thing_ for older women!" 

He had to laugh a little, again, even if it hurt. 

"Did you ever tell her?" Minako asked.

"No." 

Nurse Aino said, "I didn't tell Alan either . . . maybe that was better." 

"Do you still see Ma-mo-ro?" asked Kevin.

Nurse Aino responded, "Mamoru? All the time. He is Usagi's husband. And Ishtar's father." 

"No, what I mean is . . ." 

Nurse Aino said, "Oh . . . no. He was always meant for Usagi. He will always be in my heart, as Alan will always be there . . . and some others I don't think I will tell you about today." 

Kevin said, "I'm sorry . . . I guess what I really mean, is, are you seeing anyone now?" 

"No," said Nurse Aino. They were in the middle of the lake now, and she stopped working the oars. 

Kevin said, "I . . . I want to know if you might be more than a nurse. To me." 

Nurse Aino said, "I can be your friend. There are some things we can never share, but I can be your friend." 

Kevin said, "You are my friend . . . you _are_ my friend . . . but could you be more? Someday?" 

Nurse Aino said, "You mean, could we have sex?" 

"That's not really what I mean," said Kevin. "I mean . . . I _do _want you so damned much . . . but you're not a whore. I can buy whores. Even Moms can't stop me from that." 

"The maid," said Nurse Aino.

"What?" 

Nurse Aino said, "Your mother told me she got rid of a maid who was having sex with you." 

Kevin said, "Yes, that happened . . . she wasn't really a whore. Well, she was, before, but . . . I didn't think she was just doing it for money." 

"Did you love her?" asked Nurse Aino.

Kevin said, "Not _love_ . . . but she was my friend. Moms shouldn't have--" 

Nurse Aino cut him off. "Don't say it. If she told your brother to get rid of her, I know what might have happened." 

"I won't let that happen to you!" said Kevin.

"Not so loud, Kevin." She began rowing again, slowly, but noisily. "You can't stop your brother." 

"He--" 

Nurse Aino shook her head. "You cannot stop him from doing what he thinks he must. You are more like his son than his brother. That is how it is. I knew all of this before I ever met you. I know how dangerous your brother is. I knew it before." 

"So why did you take the job?" asked Kevin.

Nurse Aino said, "I like your mother . . . no, that is not the only reason. I wanted to know you." 

"You wanted to know me?" asked Kevin.

Nurse Aino said, "Yes . . . to know you. I cannot tell you why, but it is not because I hate your brother. I think he is a very bad man, but I do not hate him. Usagi does because he had the baby killed . . . or she thinks he did. _Everyone_ thinks he did . . . no, don't explain, don't_ ever_ tell me any secrets about your brother's business. I wouldn't tell, but I don't want to know. It would only make things harder." 

After she rowed for awhile without speaking, Kevin said, "You figure that Marvell will kill you when you are finished with me?" 

Nurse Aino said, "Maybe. He won't want to as long as your mother likes me, but if he thought I knew too much, he would. She would tell him, if she suspected. The longer I stay, the more likely it is that I will find out something." 

Kevin said, "So, what do you want me to do?" 

Nurse Aino said, "Get better. Learn to do as much as you can by yourself." 

Kevin said, "Because you won't be with me forever." 

Nurse Aino said, "That seems unlikely." 

Kevin said earnestly, "I don't want you to go away." 

Nurse Aino said, "I am not planning on going away soon." 

The dignity of the moment was spoiled. Seagull droppings splattered over Nurse Aino. He laughed, and went forward to help her clean up before he thought about what he was doing. He almost overturned the boat, but she got him back into his seat and stopped the boat from rocking. Then she took off her shirt, dipped it over the side, and cleaned off. This wasn't quite as exciting as Kevin thought at first; she was wearing a bathing suit underneath, a two-piece but with a top designed for swimming, not sunbathing, or slipping hands under . . . 

She finished, smiled, and then actually shook her chest a little before she started rowing again. "I thought I might swim later. There is a pool close by. Do you swim?" 

Kevin said, "I used to dog-paddle, but no . . . you're pretty good?" 

Nurse Aino said, "I guess. My friends Ami and Michiru can swim much faster, though. You should try, though. Even Usagi can still swim. Not well, but she can swim." 

Kevin said, "I don't know . . . sometime." 

She rowed for a long time, reaching the other end of the lake, and turning around. Now Kevin could see where Moms was sitting, though she was no more than a speck in an orange top and green pants. But they were getting closer all the time . . . 

Kevin said. "Could we stop for a little while?" 

"Yes." She stopped the oars. 

He saw Moms stand up, still far away. 

"I love you . . . Minako," said Kevin.

"I know," said Minako.

Kevin said, "I mean . . . I knew the night I met you." 

"I know." 

Kevin said, "I really love you . . . I'm never gonna love anyone else like you." 

"I know." 

Kevin said, "But you are never going to love me, are you? I mean . . . I mean like I love you." 

She said nothing. She didn't smile. She just looked at him. 

Kevin stumbled on. "I . . . I don't know how much longer I can be with you, without . . . but I can't think about what I'll do if you go." 

She still said nothing. But he saw a glint at the corner of one eye, and then watched as a single tear trickled down. 

Long after that tear fell, she spoke up. "Would you ever be sure I wasn't doing something because I pity you?" 

He thought about that a long time, even as he watched Moms walking toward them, waving. 

Kevin said, "I'll never be sure of anyone. I know what I look like. But . . . " 

Nurse Aino turned around for a moment. "I should better start rowing back." 

"I guess," said Kevin, defeated. So, that was it. When they got to the dock, that would be it. Moms stopped, and then turned around, and began walking back. She'd be waiting for them on the dock, so there'd be no good moment then. 

"I'm going to miss you," said Kevin.

"Why?" asked Nurse Aino.

Kevin blurted, "Why? I just told you I love you. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" 

Nurse Aino said, "Yes. It does not mean I am leaving you." 

Kevin said, "So we just go on like nothing has happened?" 

Nurse Aino said, "No. I am breaking your heart." 

Kevin said, "Then what?" 

Nurse Aino said, "I am not a very old-fashioned girl. But there is only one way we can go on now." 

"How?" 

Nurse Aino said, "We have to get married." 

Kevin said, "Married? You would marry me?" 

Nurse Aino said, "Do you think I am lying to you now? We will get married. I am not marrying you for your money. You do not have any money, Kevin. When your brother dies, the courts and other gangsters will take all that he has. And all that you have, and all that your mother has. Once your brother is not there to protect you, you will be defenseless, unless you have someone else to protect you. I will protect you and your mother when that day comes. My friends and I." 

"_You_ will protect _me?_" exclaimed Kevin.

Nurse Aino said, "With the help of my friends, yes. We won't do what your brother would do, but we will try. My friends are not gangsters--that means we do not have to worry about the courts. And since some of my friends are rich--some of them _very_ rich--the police will _really_ protect them from gangsters. And gangsters will not want to attack you while you are with us, even if there are some with some special hatred for you. It would not be like blowing up poor colored people that don't matter much. Many police would come looking for them, and their . . . _friends _would give them up. Especially if there is a reward, and there would be." 

"You believe that?" 

She stopped rowing long enough to shrug. "Kevin, the truth is, you do not matter very much to any gangsters except your brother. I know you fought bravely for him. But your brother can always find men who can fight well, as long as he is powerful and can afford to pay them. I think that by now the brothers of the men you killed are all dead or in prison for so long they will never matter. All the men you killed were gangsters, so the police are not going to look that hard for you, unless they think they can use you against your brother. If they have not caught you by now, I do not think they ever will." 

"You don't know _gangsters._" He shook his head. 

"I know you," said Minako.

Kevin said, "Well . . . I don't matter. Maybe I never did." 

"You matter to me." She stopped rowing again. She let go of the oars, reached forward, and kissed him. She sat back, and started rowing again, faster. "And besides." 

"Besides what?" 

"I caught Mako's bouquet." She smiled at that, but then grew serious again. "There is something else you have to tell your mother." 

"What is that?" asked Kevin.

Minako said, "You will be living with me. She can visit as much as she likes, but I won't have Ishtar in your mother's place. It is too dangerous . . . another thing." 

"Yes?" 

Minako said, "Do not try to be a father to Ishtar. She has a father. Just be her friend. And maybe her baby-sitter . . . this would be a good time to tell me if you have any children of your own." 

Kevin said, "No . . . I thought I did once, but when Peggy decided she didn't like me any more, she had a DNA test. Wasn't mine, after all. I was careful after that . . . but I can still be a father. Will you allow that? I mean, do you want it?" 

Minako said, "I want more children . . . someday. I would not be ashamed to have your child, if that is what you mean." 

They were getting close to the dock, close enough hear Moms' voice, though not close enough to make out the words. 

If he was going to say anything else before Moms could hear, it was now. 

Kevin said, "Do you just want to stay married until I feel better?" 

Minako said, "As they say in your English wedding ceremony, 'til death do us part.' Lawyers don't believe that, but I do." 

"Do you love me?" asked Kevin.

Minako said, "I care for you . . . If I said I loved you, would you ever be sure it was true? Really sure?" 

"I guess not," said Kevin.

Minako said, "I care for you. Remember that. Whatever else happens, remember that I care for you." She stopped to kiss him again. Then she pulled for the dock with all her might. 

* * *

"Are they asleep?" asked Minako. 

"Absolutely," said Naru. "Usagi used her power, and I have put a spell on them. Sleep is the first spell you should learn if you are a mother. And you can learn spells." 

Usagi was driving. Mako and Haruka were the only others who could drive comfortably using her special controls, but they were in another van. 

Minako said, "I did not want to put everyone to this much trouble. I thought we would just go to Reno and back." 

"No, if you are going to do this, do it right," said Usagi. "At the Rose Love Chapel. Good luck, so far . . . but we can't wear our costumes this time." 

"He'll find out, you know," said Minako. 

Usagi said, "Let him find out _later. _Unless you want to tell him now? Or are you afraid he will tell his brother?" 

"I don't think he would want to . . . but he is so _young_." She shook her head. "He has fought and killed, but he is so much a child compared to us, compared to me . . . You must know what I feel, what I think." 

Usagi said, "I don't read thoughts all the time, you know . . . and Naru-chan doesn't at all, unless she has learned a spell she has not told me about." 

Naru said, "Not yet. I must learn a lot of others first." 

Usagi said, "Well, then, speak to us, Mina-chan. If you want to." 

Minako sighed. "He will lose hope without me. He will kill himself, or let himself be killed." 

"Do you love him?" asked Naru. 

Minako said, "I don't know . . . he is never sure because of how he looks, and I am never sure because of what I did to him." 

Usagi said, "He will not be the last man you maim, you know, unless you want to finish off all your enemies from now on. And he is a danger to us as long as his brother is alive." 

Minako said, "If you want, I will leave you. Like it or not, you _are_ the Moon Princess. Say the word, and I will leave." 

Usagi said, "No. I could have killed him the first day . . . you know, I don't have to turn a man into dust. If I just halate his heart, or the back of his head, he dies, quickly. With little pain." 

Minako said, "Please . . . don't talk like that now." 

"Mina-chan is right, Usako," said Naru. "We are going to a wedding, after all." 

* * *

Kevin was very groggy when he entered the wedding chapel; he didn't really remember anything since the last rest stop. He'd slept most of the night, and most of the morning that followed. 

There was a crowd of people around, mostly women. He asked about them, and Minako just said, "Friends we managed to round up." Then the ceremony was starting, and then it was over, and then everyone was looking shocked at a skinny girl wearing black holding the flowers Minako had been holding . . . she'd caught the bouquet. And then they were back in the van, and he fell asleep . . . 

It was dark. Kevin woke up to the sound of a girl crying, loudly. Not a baby. 

He got up, even though it hurt. He saw they were still in the van, pulled over. The driver, Mrs. Chiba, was gone. He looked through the window and saw that she was in another van across the road, sitting on the floor, holding a girl, who was doing the crying. "That's her oldest one, isn't she?" 

Minako said, "Yes. Sarah Ami, but we also call her Chibi-Usa. Little Usagi. It is her Japanese name." 

Kevin asked, "Why is she crying so hard? She's such a tough little one." 

"She had a nightmare," said Minako.

"Really . . . I have nightmares," said Kevin.

Minako said, "I know . . . but I think Chibi-Usa's are worse." 

"Nothing could be worse than mine," said Kevin.

"Maybe . . . Did you have a nightmare?" asked Minako.

"No." 

"You might as well go back to sleep." She got out of the front seat to come back to kiss him. "We have a long way to go." 

"Why didn't we just stay?" asked Kevin.

Minako said, "There are a lot of things to do tomorrow . . . it is Sunday now, very early. In fact, I am taking the R.N. test again tomorrow." 

"I wonder what Marvell will say," Kevin thought aloud.

"He said 'Good Luck.' I called him before we left Las Vegas . . . I will be back in a minute." She left the van. 

Moms was snoring away. 

There was a great commotion in a minute. The biggest one of Minako's friends carried Usagi back to the van, with three little girls following. The biggest, Usagi's older girl with the strawberry-blonde hair got into the shotgun seat. Minako led the two other girls into the back. "I'm afraid it's going to be crowded." Minako said something in Japanese, and the two little girls got out again. 

"What did you say?" asked Kevin.

Usagi answered him. "She said if they had to pee, they should do it before we started out again. Sarah-chan, that goes for you, too." 

Minako said, "That goes for _me_, too. What about you, Kevin?" 

"Uhh . . yeah, maybe. Well, if we are all peeing, what about you?" Mrs. Chiba was digging at him, he thought. 

"I have a urine bag, Kevin. And a colostomy bag. It can't be very romantic for my husband, but he makes love to me anyway. That means a lot to me. Even if I can't feel anything below my waist." 

Kevin asked his wife why Usagi had said all that to him, but she told him not to worry about it. "Usagi is always very upset when Chibi-Usa has one of the nightmares." 

Kevin could truthfully claim he _slept_ with his wife on their wedding night, although she slept on the floor with her daughter and Kimi while he returned to his fold-out cot. 

* * *

Kevin Jones was wondering if the whole thing was a dream by the end of Sunday. He was groggy all day, and hurting not only in the familiar way but by overstraining himself. But then Nurse Aino . . . Minako . . . made love with him so gently he couldn't stop crying for a long, long time.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Took me three books to get here, but at last I put in a chapter built around Makoto, and a romantic one to boot--even a happy ending, at least for now. IMHO Mako is the hardest senshi to write about.

Usagi's got the main love interest and a million interesting quirks and faults. Minako can either be written as a goofball or the one under a special curse (and I do a little of both). Ami the shy brainy one is the one everyone wants to play matchmaker for. Rei is either tragically noble or hot-tempered and hot-blooded (and again I do a little of both). Michiru and Haruka have so many conflicts to work out they are a minor fanfiction industry. All you have to do to write a passable Setsuna story is keep her mysterious. Hotaru was made for tragedy. Chibi-usa has a _weird_ manga background that I've only touched on, if you think of the implications of a thousand-year-old child. 

And what does Makoto have? Well, she can cook and grow flowers, throw lightning, and mother everyone else. Lots of writers put her together with Motoki/Andrew, but that doesn't ring true because Motoki, being the nicest guy in the universe, has to be loyal to Reika/Rita--Reika is Motoki's girlfriend in the manga, too, boys and girls. Makoto doesn't get a real love interest at all in the manga, just a close male friend named Asanuma.

If you thirst for more fanfic about Makoto/Lita, don't miss [Sailor Moon J][2], a whole fanfic season centered on Princess Jupiter, and [Lady Jupiter's Dream House][3], which has a whole archive of Jupiter stories. 

In the next part of **Nurse Venus**, you'll see some of the Chibi Sailors in action. And investigative reporter Jack Crawford learns of a connection between a government agency and the Angel Girl stories. 

* * *

Send comments to: [sewell_thomas@hotmail.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:sewell_thomas@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/7358/
   [3]: http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Temple/9286/



	2. Part Two: Night Flyers

**Nurse Venus - Part 2**

A Sailor Moon fan fiction by Thomas Sewell ([sewell_thomas@hotmail.com][1]) 

**Chapter 5: Flyers**

THERE WEREN'T REGULATIONS against them in Berkeley (thanks to the gray-haired-hippie vote) but it was a minor misdemeanor to put up posters or flyers without authorization in most other places. The regulations were enforced spottily. No policeman was going to bother Usagi and Minako as they went from pole to pole, business to business, putting up their flyers, or handing them out to passers by. The flyers read, in part:

"MISSING: ISABELLE MARIE HARTMAN . . ."

Isabelle Hartman was, or perhaps had been, a warm, loving child. She was of mixed race, from a mother who was Vietnamese and Thai, and a father who was African-American. Her family lived in Danville, but nine days before, she'd come with some other students to the Oakland Museum. There were a _lot_ of middle-school students there that day. It was hours before it was noticed that one of them was missing.

* * *

Marvell's face filled the TV screen. It always hurt to use the ear pickups, and he had permission to go without them, but Kevin had lived with Minako long enough to know the house rules. Shoes off inside. No loud music or TV--that always got the _dirtiest_ look from the green-haired lady who played the violin.

Minako was getting ready to go out again. They'd just made love, as they almost always did when she wouldn't be back until late. "What is he saying now?" she asked.

Kevin said, "He's saying his friends are all looking for the Hartman girl, and he's talking about the reward again."

"That might help."

He took out the earpieces. "You think Marvell is just using this to make himself look better."

Minako said, "I am sure he has thought of that. That does not mean he is not trying to help. Kurume-san told me that a big gangster did something like this once when a baby was kidnapped a long time ago."

Kevin said, "Al Capone. I know about that."

"You do?"

"Gots time to read . . . and I really can now. Better than I could."

She was finished dressing, and he heard the familiar squeak of Usagi's wheelchair outside their room. Minako bent down to kiss him, automatically bringing the covers up as if he were a child. He grabbed her shoulders suddenly, an immensely painful effort. "Do you have to go?"

"Yes . . . please. Kevin-chan."

Kevin said, "I worry . . . what about the babies?"

She held her stomach for a moment. "They are not even kicking yet. I had no trouble with Ishtar. Do not worry."

Kevin said, "Please . . . can't you stay? Why do you go out so much?"

She was quiet for awhile. "Are you afraid I am seeing another man?"

He was quiet for awhile. "You are so beautiful . . . I am always afraid I will lose you."

She caressed his face, ever so gently, the only way pain didn't come. "You will never lose me that way. Now, go to sleep, please. You will get weak and get sick again if you do not sleep."

Kevin didn't want to, but before he knew it, he had slept. Now he needed to pee. Minako was gone, and it was very late. He got his sleeve-canes and stumbled off to the toilet. Minako always left a urinal for him, but the pain was better than the humiliation of using it. Kevin had his own house rules.

* * *

After they were sure Kevin was asleep, Minako and Usagi went to rouse the children. Rei and Minako were waiting downstairs in the second basement--down the elevator for Usagi, of course.

"One of us should come," said Rei.

"You can't keep up with the children, especially you, Mako-chan," said Minako.

"Then you should wait for Mamoru," said Makoto.

"He is on duty tonight," said Usagi.

"Then you should not go tonight," said Rei. "Or let us go with you."

"I'm not afraid," said Chibi Moon.

"That is not true," said Usagi quietly.

Chibi Moon's lip quivered, but she said, "I won't let that stop me. You were more afraid than anyone, but you didn't let that stop you, when you were Sailor Moon."

"That _is_ true, little moon," said Usagi.

Chibi Moon flew over her mother to put her arms and wings around her. "You'll get better, _okasan_. Someday you will be Sailor Moon again."

Kimi Moon went to her mother; Chibi Venus went to Usagi, and then back to her mother.

Ryo had come down. He looked at the tiny Sailor fighters and shook his head. "The girl is dead."

"You are certain of this?" asked Usagi.

Ryo said, "You can read even my thoughts . . . yes, as certain as I can be with my power."

"Is there more?" asked Usagi.

"Yes . . . I saw how she was killed. It was in a van, I think . . . but I did not see after. I do not know what the killer did with the body."

"You saw his face?" asked Makoto.

"No . . . I saw through his eyes," said Ryo.

"Was it like the thing we fought in _otousan's_ world?" asked Chibi Moon.

"The killer acted as a man . . . a monster, but with no more strength than a man. I cannot read thoughts as you . . . I only saw . . . and heard . . . and . . . "

"Do not say any more!" said Usagi. "Ryo, you must not use your power for this again until I say! Mako, take him away. See that he does not use his power! Rei, go too."

"But I can--" Suddenly Ryo slumped; Makoto caught him.

Usagi commanded, "He must not use his power, Mako-chan. Get Naru; make sure he stays asleep. And use the powder the little man gave us."

"I do not think it will not really work on him," said Rei, coming to assist Makoto. "He is almost like a _senshi_."

Usagi said, "It should make him forget for a few days, at least. When he remembers again, we will be ready to help him . . . better than we can now. _Go._"

Once Mako and Rei had taken Ryo away, Usagi spoke to the children. "Don't fly ahead of Venus-san. You are looking for the girl Isabelle. If we can find her before anyone, there is a good chance the Grey Lady can bring her back. If you see any crooks, tell Mina-chan, do not go after them yourselves."

"What if we find the killer with the van, mama?" asked Chibi Moon.

"He may not be anywhere around here . . . but if you do think you have found him, tell Mina-chan. It would be better if the police found him. There may be other missing girls he killed; their families should know, at least . . . _be careful_, little moon. You are so very brave, but you need to be _careful._" Usagi hugged her eldest daughter tight. "Kimi-chan, Ishi-chan, if there is trouble, Chibi-Usa will bring you back here. Do not stay to fight anyone. Chibi-Usa, you must look after your sisters first." She hugged each of the child Sailors. Then Usagi said to Sailor Venus, "Come back after three. They all need to sleep some more, and so do you."

* * *

It was the dream again . . .

* * *

Kevin was in the first backup car, cradling his .50 rifle. The kick was like a punch from a young Mike Tyson, even with the big-ass muzzle break and the shock absorber in the stock, but it could cut through kevlar like butter, or go clean through a car or a brick wall. His brother's men could empty a clip without doing a damned thing, but Kevin never needed more than one shot.

He'd asked Marvell to go in the first car, do the job, but Marvell had said he wasn't going to waste Kevin on some fool niggers Moms could take out. If he wanted to help, he could ride backup . . . if the wrong cops stumbled onto them, Kevin could put shots in their engine blocks, shut them down without making them inconveniently dead. Just keep an eye out, help it go down quick and clean.

Besides, some of the fools were women; there might be little kids with them. It could be messy . . .

So there he was waiting. The boys who were doing the hit, all under 16, got out of their car, took a few steps, and opened up. _Stupid kids,_ he had thought, even though he was only 18.

And then the _thing _flew down. Through his sight, he saw one of the kids start to turn into a _skeleton. _He wrestled with the gun, and squeezed off a round. And it screamed, like a _woman . . . _and then he saw the other thing, black against the face of the moon. He brought up the gun, but it was so slow . . . and then he didn't have a gun.

He was in the boat on Lake Merritt. Minako was smiling at him. He reached out with his hands, whole, ready to feel every inch of her . . . and the moon had become the sun, and the thing was still black against it. And the light came, and his hands melted away, and in front of him, Minako was burned to a horrible charred black thing, like he saw the firemen taking out of the cars . . .

* * *

Kevin Jones woke up screaming. And Minako still wasn't home . . .

* * *

Kimi Moon had seen some bones, under a field. Chibi Moon brought Naru to read them. She had to use a special book of spells, and it took her much longer than with one of the spells she had really learned. Finally Naru said, "These are the bones of a girl, but they are old. She was one of the people who lived here many years ago, before any cities were built here. We should leave them. Her family put them here, long, long ago." Naru put the bone she had been holding down into the little pit, and started moving the dirt back over it. Everyone else helped. Then she prayed to the spirit of the long-dead girl, and set a little geas on the spot so that others would avoid it, at least for awhile.

"I will take you back," said Chibi Moon to Naru.

"We should all go back," said Sailor Venus. "It is nearly three o'clock."

"We should look a little more," said Chibi Moon.

"I feel very bad feelings from somewhere," said Chibi Venus. "Someone is very afraid. Maybe a girl. We should try to find her."

Sailor Venus said, "Many girls are afraid of many things, Ishtar. Are you sure it is not just someone with a nightmare?"

Ishtar said, "No, _okasan_. I have felt this for a long time now. It has been getting stronger and stronger."

"Nightmares don't really last that long," said Chibi Moon, who knew nightmares so well.

Naru stepped back and worked another spell, one she wasn't sure of, but . . . "Mina-chan, I think your daughter is right. If you can find this girl quickly, there may be time . . . we will go back and get help."

Sailor Venus was very afraid for the children . . . but what of the child that might be in terrible danger now? "No, Naru-chan," said Venus. "If you go back, Usagi will argue and may keep Chibi Moon from returning . . . Naru-chan, if we go, we will have to leave you here."

"Go . . . I will be all right. But be careful!"

* * *

Louis Spotts and his friends hadn't been looking for anything more than a place to pee. About all that was open at half-past three was _Denny's_, and that wasn't the place for four black gang-bangers, even if they had on their tuxes and drove a Benz. Louis looked at the headlights in the distance and tried to finish up. Was it a cop? It would be very stupid to get busted for just pissing in a big empty lot.

The lights went out. Peering out, he could just make out a shape in the moonlight. "It's a van, Darnell . . . no lights on the top."

"A van? What's it doing out here?"

They were in a run-down industrial area between the Bayshore Freeway and the marshy flats that edged most of the southern arm of San Francisco Bay. Half the old buildings had been knocked down already. Spotts had turned off the freeway and driven into this place precisely because it was deserted. Or should be . . .

"Yeah . . . Maybe we should find out. Saddle up." He checked his gun, and the other's checked theirs.

* * *

"Down there," called Chibi Venus. "Kimi, can you see yet?"

Kimi Moon said, "Yes. A girl, in a van . . . A man with a big knife!"

"Don't fly ahead!" shouted Sailor Venus.

"We have to hurry!" screamed Kimi Moon. "He is starting to hurt her!"

"No, don't go ahead!" cried Venus. "Chibi Moon, _remember your mother!_"

"She is hurting!," screamed Chibi Venus. "He is hurting her terribly!"

"He is cutting her!" said Kimi Moon, pulling up in the air. "Sarah, you cannot hit him without hurting her! Mama Venus, can you hit the man?" Kimi flew above Venus, and put her hands down on Venus' head. "Use my eye! You must stop him now!"

Suddenly Venus could see the van magnified a thousand times, see through the windowless back at the man over the naked little girl, see his hips moving, her lips moving, begging, him making little cuts on her with his big knife . . . He arched his back, and his head rose up.

And Sailor Venus had a clear shot, for an instant . . .

* * *

Spotts and his three friends saw the van begin to rock, and stifled laughs. They continued to approach, hoping to surprise the people inside.

But then there was a _bang. _Louder than a gunshot; they all knew gunshots.

They all pulled out their guns. If they'd been real trained fighters, they would have dropped to the ground first. But they were really just four teenagers coming back from a long wedding and a long party afterward, who happened to be into a gang that made money on drugs so they could afford toys like Benzes and guns . . . They ran _toward_ the van, shouting to each other. In a firefight with the greenest recruits, they would have already been dead.

A little smoke was rising from the back of the van. Spotts and Darnell ran to the back and tried the door, shouting, "Throw out the gun, motherfucker, or we blow you to hell!" The doors were locked. Darnell used his lighter, and they saw there was a hole through one of the doors, about four inches across.

Suddenly a woman's voice called out from behind. "Put down your guns!"

Spotts whirled around and fired--at nothing. The road behind him was empty.

Now there was a violet fire blooming in front of him. A blast knocked him back against the van; he felt a wave of heat. He smelt hot asphalt, and acrid smoke.

"Put down all your guns!," called a girl's voice. "Or I will punish you!"

The woman's voice again: "Put down your guns! We will not hurt you if you put down your guns!"

A child's voice called out. "Please, put down your guns! You are all frightened, and you will fight us if you keep the guns. We will not hurt you. We don't want to fight you."

Another child's voice called: "Please, don't fight us. Mama Venus and my sisters will kill you all if you fight. Help us help the little girl in the van."

Spotts heard Darnell speak as he bent down slowly to set his gun on the ground. "Spotts, look up."

Louis Spotts looked up, and in the moonlight he saw four angels. He tossed his gun away.

The biggest one flew down close. Her head glowed, and the lock on the doors burned away. Spotts could see in the light from the burning that the angel was very beautiful.

One of the smaller angels glowed much more brightly from her head, like a floodlight.

"Help me get the doors open," said the woman angel.

All four of the teenage gangsters pulled at the doors, which finally sprung open. From inside the van came a rush of odor: burnt metal, burnt plastic, burnt hair, burnt flesh.

"Get him off of her!"

The gangsters grabbed the man on top of the little girl inside, and threw him out. He had a face, below the eyes, but the rest of his head was missing. Spotts found something sticking to his pants, and found it had hair on it.

The three little angels crowded into the van, hiding the little girl under their wings. Spotts saw Darnell puke, and then walk over and start kicking the body they had thrown out.

The big angel said something in a language Darnell didn't understand. Suddenly the little angels and the bleeding little girl they'd found under the corpse were gone.

The big angel flew up a bit. "They have taken her to a hospital. Please, leave him for the police. It may help them to find the other girls he has killed . . .You should get away, while you can."

"Who are you?" asked Spotts.

"I am the Sailor Fighter for Justice and Love, Sailor Venus."

"So you sailor girls are our friends now?" said Spotts.

The angel said, "We never wanted to be your enemies. But if you kill people, we must fight you. That is how it is . . . go, the police will be here soon. It is not right for you to be caught when you helped."

Spotts said, "Wait . . . Aren't you going to tell us to be good?"

The angel said, "I am not a policeman. I am not one of your preachers. I fight for what I think is right. You fight for your friends and yourselves. But I will tell you something. You are all brave, but you not very good fighters. You will not last long. You were good helpers now. What feels better, getting a lot of money for doing what you do, or helping people like that little girl?"

Spotts felt like his grandmother was talking to him. That wasn't how he wanted a beautiful woman to talk to him, even an angel. "Maybe I'll think about it . . . you want to go on a date sometime and try to talk me into it?"

The angel said, "I have a husband. He was a gangster boy like you."

Darnell spoke up. "Ain't you a little fat for an angel?"

"I am _not_ fat!" called the angel as she rose further up. "I am _pregnant!_"

When no one could see her any more, Darnell gave the body another kick, and they ran back to their car.

* * *

Just when they were finishing up for the night, highway workers found what was left of Isabelle Marie Hartman.

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Investigator**

THE KILLER found nearly headless near his van was Robert Taylor Smithfield, a white male, 37 years old. He was a paving contractor. In the next four months, the FBI and various police departments uncovered seven more bodies, all of them hidden under pavement. They found he was a souvineer collector; the FBI thought he might have murdered as many as thirty women and children over eight years. Neighbors, employees, and clients described him as a quiet man who kept to himself. 

John Garfield Crawford (IV) was not a serial killer, despite being a white man in what he liked to think of as his middle years who spent most of his time alone, with three names. He was an investigative reporter. He usually wrote books, but would also consider shorter articles, or even television, if he was interested in the story. 

Wild stories about magic girls and angels straight out of bad Japanese cartoons did not interest him. That belonged with the Space Elvis stories in the checkout-stand tabloids. But there _were_ things that interested him about how Smithfield had come to his well-deserved end. 

The first thing he noticed was that the van and the body had apparently disappeared shortly after the story broke. Redwood City police said the van had _not _been stolen. The FBI had been looking for it, and suddenly they weren't; never had been looking for it. 

It didn't take a Jack Crawford to smell a cover-up, but it _did_ to get a line on what was really going on. After a month, he found the [NSA1][2] was involved. After four months, he finally found someone who would talk. 

* * *

"Smoke?" asked Crawford. 

The NSA man said, "No, gave it up . . . you can't even smoke in your car back in Maryland. I damn near lost my license over it!" 

Crawford said, "All right. I see the pictures. What do they mean?" 

"Smithfield was taken out with an energy weapon. Probably a laser; maybe a particle beam." 

"We have things like that?" asked Crawford.

"Something like that. But this had to be a portable weapon. The best prototype we have will just fit on a tank, and it needs a trailer full of fuel and coolant." 

"So you're telling me aliens did it?" asked Crawford dubiously.

"That is one theory. I'm not kidding; the boys really talked about it. But what most of us think--and what I think--is that there is a smart guy out there who figured out how to make a weapon a lot better than anything so far. Maybe an ex-Soviet. They had a hell of a lot of secret programs, and I mean _secret. _Maybe they weren't all dead ends . . . maybe our smart guy used some of that secret research and built this zap-gun." 

Crawford asked, "So why don't you just offer him a lot of money for it?" 

The NSA man said, "We did. Do you know how much we've paid just their nuclear scientists to sit home and twiddle their thumbs? But we don't know who he is, and if we did, I think he must have heard our offer now and is not interested." 

"So what's his motivation?" asked Crawford. "Conquer the world by himself?" 

"That's another possibility . . . not a _sane_ one, but a more likely than aliens. Again, I think like most of us that he has a political agenda. Or she; could be a woman. Actually, considering the targets--" 

"Targets?" said Crawford. "You mean there have been more?" 

"Yes . . . Anomalous incidents like Smithfield were first reported in England and then in Japan, starting a dozen years ago. Seven years ago, the first definite incident took place here, in the Bay Area. Since then there have been reports across the country and even a couple of properly investigated incidents overseas. But there are more incidents here than anywhere else." 

Crawford said, "Interesting timing . . . those are exactly the times the magic girl and angel stories started." 

The NSA spook shrugged. "Disinformation. We have some friends in the tabloids and trash TV. And it's good for business. The whole magic girl fad has come back. My granddaughters love it." 

"But why is this good for you guys?" asked Crawford.

"What is better for John Q. Public? Telling them that some nut is going around shooting rayguns? Or letting him believe it's all hysteria and hoax?" 

Crawford nodded his head. "So, why are you telling me this?" 

"Because the current policy is not working. We aren't any closer to finding the guy than we were when I started working on this five years ago. I don't control policy and I don't want to get fired. But if you can really crack open the story, the Agency will have to scrap the current policy." 

"And if I am caught or killed . . ." 

". . . nobody will disavow anything because you don't work for us." 

Crawford said, "Right . . . You said the choice of targets might indicate a woman?" 

"Yes. There are all sorts of targets, including some that don't make any sense to anyone, but the one consistent pattern involves serial rapists and serial killers. Our friend has fried at least fifteen men that fit the profile. Nine of them in the San Francisco Bay Area, and all but one of them in Northern California." 

"Where was the other one?" asked Crawford.

"In Michigan," said the NSA man. "That was the hardest one to cover up." 

"Why?" 

The NSA man said. "It was another van, but it didn't just have a hole in it. The FBI got very lucky; there was _one_ VIN number on the pieces they found. You put all the pieces together, they'd fit in your briefcase." 

"What about the perpetrator?" asked Crawford.

"They found a piece of him, too, enough for a DNA match." 

* * *

The NSA could disappear a van and the body of a man whose mother didn't even want it, but they could not disappear Lisette Pinatabo. However wild her stories had been, she had described Smithfield and the van very vividly, even gotten a partial license number. She had resisted, but there is a limit to what a 70-pound, 11-year-old girl can do to a fit 225 pound man without a ready weapon. 

After what other reporters had done when the story broke, her parents wouldn't let one near their daughter. Crawford had to speak to her, but he might get only one chance, and he needed to be sure he knew the right questions. 

The first solid fact in the mystery was that Lisette had been admitted to the Emergency Room of Stanford Hospital. Crawford had a windfall there. The head of Pediatrics happened to be his high school sweetheart. 

"What can you tell me, Debbie?" 

Debbie said, "You won't get to see any of our records, and if they show up in your story, that finishes us." 

"No, that's not how I work," said Crawford. _Unless nothing else will do it. _"But I have to talk to this kid if I'm going to get any further. I want to get a feel for her. Actually, I want to make sure I should talk to her at all. Did you get to know her?" 

Debbie said, "No. I was at a conference when she was admitted. She was discharged before I came back." 

Crawford said, "Discharged? How long were you gone?" 

Debbie said, "I came back in three days. The Pinatabo child did not have _severe_ physical injuries. Besides the rape trauma, her assailant inflicted a lot of shallow, painful cuts. One nipple was detached, but the worst injury was a broken humerus. It was a clean break, easily set. No major arteries or veins were opened. 

Crawford said, "But she went home in less than three days." 

Debbie said, "No. She was flown to a private clinic. I can't tell you where." 

Crawford asked, "Was it a government agency that moved her? I mean, Feds of some kind?" 

She looked at him very closely. "No. It was a private arrangement. Someone who wants to remain anonymous paid her bills here. For the clinic as well, I presume. The Pinatabos are not wealthy. And as far as I know, they haven't taken money for their daughter's story." 

Crawford said, "I'm not planning on offering them any . . . can you at least tell me who saw her while she was here?" 

Again, she looked hard into him. Finally she said, "One name. Don't come back to me if she doesn't give you what you want." 

"Fair enough, Deb." 

Debbie said, "The first person who saw the Pinatabo girl here was a fourth year medical student. _I_ asked her what happened. She told me a different story than she told the others, including the police." 

"What, about angels?" said Crawford.

Debbie said, "No. She said she knew who had brought the girl in, but that she couldn't tell the police. She said that gangsters had found the girl and helped her, but they didn't want to talk to police." 

"Gangsters?" asked Crawford.

Debbie said, "She meant from one of the drug gangs. She said they were very young, and it was wrong to send them to jail when they helped the girl." 

"Interesting," mused Jack Crawford. "So our public-spirited Mr. Jones is actually telling the truth. Or some of it." 

Debbie said, "Yes. Sickening, isn't it? Last week we had some movie people here. They want to make a movie about it. Something like 'Street Angels.'" 

Crawford said, "Right . . . You're taking a big risk here. Why are you protecting this student?" 

Debbie said, "You meet her, you'll know. And if you screw her life up, Johnny, you are going straight to Hell." Debbie started writing something on a pad, taking out her PDA for a moment to check something. "This is her," she said, tearing off the top sheet and handing it to him. "But she's not here now." 

"Why?" asked Crawford.

Debbie said, "Vacation. She'll be back August 29 to start her internship. But you can reach her there." She pointed out a line. 

"waterfriend@Mercurius.com?" Crawford was reasonably computer-literate for a geezer.

"She's married to the founder. One of the richest geeks in the Valley now," Debbie said.

* * *

Crawford was just a little too old to be comfortable with e-mail, so he let the lead on the medical student go until he could be sure to see her in person. That was as far as he could get on the Smithfield story, but the "anomalies" his contact in the NSA had given him needed to be looked into. He knew the Michigan story would be cold--especially when he found out it had a connection with the "Christmas Miracle" in Grosse Pointe--another source of bad movies, two of them, neither authorized . . . 

Sure enough, the anomalies always occurred in the heights of the magic girl and angel stories. But that was disinformation--unless the story about disinformation was disinformation! Crawford laughed at the brief paranoid thought. Spooks like his source in the NSA were so obsessed with secrecy they often couldn't find their butts with both hands and a government-issue flashlight. 

Most of the other anomalies he had gotten from his NSA contact were old and cold, at least four years. But there was one that wasn't three years old yet, and it had an interesting filip: there was a survivor: Kevin L. Jones, none other than the last surviving brother of the famous Marvell, the Lord of the Blues himself, at least for Northern California. Crawford had gotten to know the Jones family for his book _The Culture of Crime. _Crawford talked up one of his favorite contacts, a rumpled plainclothes officer in the Oakland PD named John Shaw. Shaw said Kevin Jones was really a civilian now. "He married his nurse, do you believe it? Real knockout, too. Man, she must like money a _lot_ to sleep with Marvell's little bro." 

Jack Crawford said, "What do you mean? He's better looking than Marvell." 

Shaw said, "_Was, _bro. He looks worse than the Elephant Man now." 

* * *

Crawford knew the Bay Area better than any region except the New York-Washington corridor. He'd been born in Oakland, far enough back for it to have been unremarkable to be a white boy born in Oakland. He'd returned here to track down what was, in truth, a minor story, however great the personal tragedies that made it up. This was the place he felt was home, and he was annoyed when government or big-ass corporations made it worse than it had to be. Disappearing that van had been a slap in the face to everyone Smithfield had murdered. One way or another, he was going to make enough trouble so they'd think twice before doing something that stupid and cruel again. 

But to do that, he had to find a story that people would listen to, and that meant a story about people, not dry facts. So, wise enough to avoid driving the perpetually overloaded Bay Area freeway system (made worse by the muckup of the Bay Bridge rework), he took trains to El Cerrito Plaza, and caught a cab from there up to the home of Jackie Jones, Marvell and Kevin's mother. He'd interviewed her before, a couple of times. He sent off the cab without thinking twice; she was a lonely lady who needed company, and he expected to be there for hours. 

"Oh, Mr. Crawford! Come in!" She made a path through the guards for him, and took him into her kitchen. She filled him in on what was going on at Church, and what she heard from Mrs. Maldaba about a new deal to bring back the Raiders again, while serving chicory and sugar cookies. 

At length, Crawford got to the point. "I'm here to talk with Kevin, if I may." 

"Kevin? What about?" 

"Well, about how he got hurt so badly . . . the government is covering up something." 

"Covering up?" asked Mrs. Jones.

Crawford said, "Yes . . . This isn't about Marvell's business, this is about what happened to Kevin." Crawford had calculated this moment, and had thought many times about changing his mind. But he had to shake something loose, so it was time to plant a rumor. "It has something to do with a new weapon. I think the government is testing it secretly." 

"Testing it?" asked Mrs. Jones.

Crawford continued. "On people. Kevin wasn't the only one. I can't be sure yet, but Uncle Sam may be doing some target shooting, and boys like Kevin may be the targets." 

"The government! _Our _government?" 

_In for a penny . . . _ "Mrs. Jones, Marvell and Kevin and the others in their business, they are just working for the government. What Marvell makes is peanuts compared to what the CIA makes on this. Would it really surprise you if they decided to use up a few boys like Kevin? They think they own you, anyway." He finished his Chicory. "'Frangible assets.' That's what they called you a few years ago. 'Frangible' is a fancy word meaning something not worth keeping after you use it once or twice." He set the cup down carefully. "Don't let anyone _I_ told you this, or I will be 'frangible' myself." 

He shifted his weight. "So, can I talk to Kevin?" 

She looked as if she was about to pour him another cupful, but she stopped. "Kevin doesn't live here, Mr. Crawford." 

Jack Crawford was surprised. He'd marked Kevin down as his mother's pet. "Really? I--I'm sorry, I assumed he was still here. I should have called." 

"No, you don't want to be saying what you said over the _phone_. Especially _my_ phone." She put the pot up. "Marvell told me that this room is the hardest in the house to _bug_ now, so I have all my important talks in here." 

Crawford said, "Well . . . can I drop in on him then? If his phone is bugged--" 

Mrs. Jones said, "You can walk, if you like. He lives four blocks down the street, in that big brick place with the pillars." 

"He bought _that_ place?" asked Crawford.

Mrs. Jones said, "No, no, he just stays there with his wife. Japanese girl, used to be his nurse. She made him move as soon as she married him." 

"Really . . ." 

"Can't say I blame her," said Mrs. Jones, "She's got a little girl, cute little thing. Wouldn't want her around Marvell's friends." 

"Don't you see your son any more?" asked Jack Crawford.

Mrs. Jones said, "Oh, near every day! Like I said, it's just four blocks. My legs ain't gave out yet, so I usually walk over. Someone always drives me back." 

"Well . . . they grow up," said Crawford.

Mrs Jones said, "Yes, they do . . . gonna have some grandkids soon. Wife's carrying twins. I wish Marvell would get himself a wife." 

He got up, and kissed her hand. "Thank you. I won't release anything until I have them nailed cold. They won't be able to touch Kevin after that." 

* * *

Strolling up to the mansion, Crawford didn't see anything that looked like surveillance. Shaw was probably right; Kevin was a civilian, out of the loop, not worth watching. Still, he thought about looking for a back entrance, but not long. That would only make him look more interesting, if there actually was any surveillance. 

There was another problem. It was late, close to ten. He could come back . . . but something inside said that he wouldn't get the story tomorrow he could get tonight. 

The mansion was surrounded by a high iron fence. The gates were all lighted. He saw that the walk-in gate from Arlington had a camera and a phone. He picked it up and pressed the large red button above the keypad. 

"My name is Jack Crawford. I need to speak with Mr. Kevin Jones. It is very important." 

* * *

**Chapter 7: Kevin's Interview**

DOWN BELOW in the second basement the mansion wasn't supposed to have, Usagi gave out her final orders for the night's mission. "Remember the time difference. It is almost one in Georgia. The sky will be light enough for people to see you in four hours. You should come back after three hours, no more. If any of you starts getting very tired, all of you, come back. When you are very tired, you make mistakes. That means you too, Mako, Rei. Chibi Moon, Kimi Moon, Chibi Venus. Don't keep flying too fast. You will tire out your aunties and you will be all be in extra danger. You are looking for the lost boys. You are _not_ looking for fights. If you see a crime, call police. Don't fight unless there is no other way." 

Chibi Moon said, "Yes, _okasan_," and, as usual, the search party winked out right after. 

Usagi usually insisted on wheeling herself, but she so was very tired and worried that she let Naru wheel her into the elevator. She sighed; the elevator was very slow, and it got stuck about once a month and needed practically all her friends from Mercurius to get it working again--they couldn't call in a regular elevator man, of course, because of the secret second basement. 

Trying to keep her mind off the danger her children were in, Usagi said, "Dr. Alvarson promised he was going to send us some help about this elevator from the Grey Company. You have his crystal. Is there any news about it?" 

Naru said, "No, not today . . . Mina-chan's husband will be awake soon." 

Usagi exclaimed, "What? You just put the spell on." 

Naru said, "It does not work on him well now. He has some magic, and he is building up an immunity to my spell." 

Usagi pondered."Magic . . . maybe that is how he was able to hurt me." 

Naru said, "He did not know you then, Usagi. You were killing his friends." 

Usagi said, "He did not really think they were his friends . . . but he felt for them. It hurts to read his thoughts. I need to do it all the time, but it hurts." 

"Does Mina-chan truly love him?" Naru asked.

"That is not . . . " _your business._ Usagi sighed. "I do not know. She really does not know. She does love him in a way like she loves the children. As big and as tough as he is, he is like a child in some ways." She shook her head. "But what _man_ is not like a child." Usagi shook her head, and after a moment said in a different tone, "Children should not have to fight like that. _My _children should not have to." 

"But how will we stop them?" Naru asked rhetorically.

Usagi said, "Yes . . . Pleione asked me if she could go tonight."

Naru exclaimed, "She did? I told her no! She should not go behind my back!" 

Usagi said, "I told her that, but you know she will just keep asking . . . If she starts going, then Rei cannot stop Deja any more. And even I can see Zara's sigil now. She will probably be next." Usagi reached back to take Naru's hand. "But it is better that they learn early, when it is not so dangerous. My little moon is a smart fighter now. If she finds something like the Iturbe-monster, she knows how to fight better. In a few years, we will have many _senshi_, almost an army. The three Chibis could probably beat Queen Beryl and her Generals all by themselves." 

Naru said, "Don't exaggerate to make me feel better . . . Oh, no!"

The elevator had stopped. It was dead again.

Then the phone rang. Naru picked up the receiver. "Hello . . . What? . . . Stop, listen, we are stuck in the elevator now!" 

"Who is it?" asked Usagi.

Naru said, "It is Mina-chan. A man has come to see her husband." 

"A policeman?" asked Usagi.

Naru said, "He says no . . . she has already let him inside." 

Usagi exclaimed, "A stranger in the house at this hour? Mina-chan has lost her brains again!" 

Naru said, "She is whispering . . . she wants to know if you can read his thoughts from here." 

Usagi said, "No, I cannot read thoughts very far away unless I transform . . . I will try. Cover the phone." 

Usagi transformed. She was instantly in agony and screamed so loud she set Naru's uncovered ear ringing. Tears streaming from the pain, she reached out with her mind . . . Then she screamed again and transformed back. Naru held her tight, and pulled her back up, making sure she was secure in her chair. But she was sitting in urine and waste now. There was nothing for it, except that Naru took off her sweater and began using it to clean up Usagi as best she could. 

Usagi said, "The phone . . . tell Mina-chan he is a reporter, and he wants to expose the government for something . . . that is all I could read. Oh . . . He speaks no Japanese." 

Naru picked up the phone and spoke quite loudly, perhaps because Usagi's screams had half-deafened her for the moment. 

* * *

"What was _that?_" asked Crawford. 

The very pregnant blonde replied, "Oh . . . my friend spilled something. She does that a lot. Just a minute . . ." 

Crawford heard someone talking very loudly from the other end of the phone now . . . Japanese, probably, or maybe Korean. Crawford knew there were Koreans who had lived in Japan for generations, although this wasn't likely to be one . . . the Japanese who had odd hair and eye colors had lived in the north, and they hadn't started moving down to Tokyo and the sprawl south of it until about the time he'd been in the Army, doing his service in Japan, more years ago than he liked to think . . . he'd never picked up the lingo, though. An ear for language was not one of his assets. 

But he could read faces very well. The blonde was hiding something. And he already knew she was Jones' wife . . . "Where is your friend? That sounded like it came from below." 

The younger Mrs. Jones said, "Oh . . . problem with the elevator again. Stuck. I'm going to have to help them get out again." 

"Can I help?" asked Crawford.

The blonde said, "No . . . thank you, but . . . wait here. Unless you want to go now. My husband is asleep. I don't think he will want to see you tonight." 

"It is important . . . are you sure I can't help with the elevator?" Crawford asked.

The blonde paused, and lost her fluster. "Mr. Crawford, I have let you in to my home at a late hour, but will you understand that I do not want to take you where there might be no security cameras? We had a man break in here once, and we are very careful now. So, you can wait, or you can go. I am sorry, you seem a good person, but I have seen many that _looked_ like good persons and who were not. If you need to use a restroom, there is a small one there, through that door." She left him, moving with astonishing grace for a woman so near to full term. Just before she disappeared around the far stairs, she said, "_Don't_ go any further than the restroom. You may find an unpleasant surprise." 

Crawford was now alone in the enormous main room. It reminded him of a seedy hotel lobby. It looked lived-in, utterly unlike the sterile museum-look of every other mansion he'd ever been in. There were tell-tale signs of children everywhere: a forgotten doll near a lamp, a stack of coloring books; comics, about half in English, half in Japanese. He spotted a pacifier under a couch, and impulsively knelt down to get it. 

"Who are you?" called an unfamiliar voice. And yet . . . 

Crawford looked up. A man was standing at the railing that ran all around the main room, about twenty feet up. Another hotel-like feature . . . The man was hard to see in the subdued light. About all he could tell was that he was black. But . . . 

"Mr. Jones?" asked Crawford.

"Yes," responded the man. His voice was ragged, and not very loud. 

"Kevin Jones?" 

"Yes. Who are you? What do you want?" He was a bit louder, and clearly irritated.

"I'm Mr. Crawford. Your mother said I should talk with you . . . I remember you, but you sound different . . . could you come down? I can barely hear you." 

"Yeah." 

"I think there is trouble with the elevator," said Crawford.

"Damn, _again_ . . . not so loud, there's _some_ folks sleepin.'" 

The man came down, slowly. Crawford wondered if he should help, but the man said nothing more, just groaned and grunted as he came down a careful step at a time. At last he was down. He walked forward toward Crawford using two canes, the kind with sleeves that you slip your wrists into. As he came into the light, he could see why. The man's hands were a pink mass of scar tissue. He had only one thumb and one finger with nails; all his other digits were missing joints, most more than one.

His face--he didn't really have one. His "nose" was a hole in his face. He had no lips, though his teeth were covered by strange looking grafted tissue. He had no eyebrows, and only a few patches of hair on his head. The only human thing about his face was his eyes. His eyes and the small area of whole skin around them made him look like a monstrous raccoon, set in the midst of more pink scar tissue. 

Crawford actually lost control for a moment. "My God!" 

The gorgon of a man actually smiled. "Well, five, ten more years of plastic surgery, I might be all the way up to just ugly!" He raised one of the canes, and pointed with it for a wobbly moment. "Have a seat. You know where my wife is?" 

Crawford said, "She went to help her friends. I think they are stuck in the elevator." 

"Probably . . . " said Jones.

"Do you want to go help them?" asked Crawford.

Kevin Jones said, "Not much I can do . . . Minako never tells me anything that would make me worry. But that means I always worry about what she _ain't_ told me. He sat down, and picked up a phone, the same phone his wife had used. "Miz Umino? . . . Don't let Minako do anything stupid! . . . You sure? . . . You sure? . . . All right, but if you ain't out here in ten minutes, I'm callin' the Fire Department!" He hung up. 

The man who had once been handsome young Kevin Jones looked at him for a long moment. The he said, "I remember you . . . you did a story on Moms." 

"Yes. Nearly four years ago, now," said Crawford.

Jones said, "Yeah . . . Ronnie was still alive. What do you want to talk about now? I ain't in the business. And I won't tell you nothin' about what I used to do in the business. And I don't need to have folks feelin' sorry for me." 

"Why not?" 

Jones said. "I got Minako. Got a couple of kids comin'. Got some kids here that ain't scared of me. They even kinda like me, when I ain't yellin' at 'em to mind. That's more than Ronnie's got. Or Odum, or Billy." 

Crawford said, "Yes . . . Your wife is quite a woman." 

Jones paused. "So . . . You still got something to say?" 

"Yes, I do . . . Can you tell me how you got like this?" asked Crawford.

Jones said, "Just like I said. Some things flew down from the sky. They killed everyone but me." 

Crawford said, "Forgive me . . . but that just doesn't sound possible." 

Jones said, "Well, it happened. Just like that. I dream about it all the time. I dream they come back, and they get Minako, and Moms, and Marvell, and all my friends . . . burn them up." 

Jack Crawford asked, "Are you sure you saw the things shooting at you? Maybe you saw birds. It's hard to judge sizes at night." 

"We wuz sure as hell burned," said Jones. 

Crawford said, "Yes, but maybe not by what you think . . . has anyone from the government talked to you about it? Not police, though they might have pretended to be police or FBI." 

"What do you mean?" asked Jones.

Crawford asked, "Did they ask you about the weapon that did this to you?" 

Kevin Jones didn't answer right away. Finally he said, "Yes, there were some that asked me if I saw any funny weapons. But I saw what I saw. It was no weapon. That thing was shooting at me from its _head._ It had hands, but there weren't nothin' in them." 

"You saw all that?" asked Crawford.

Kevin Jones said, "I _saw_ all that. It was the last thing I saw through my scope . . . just before my damn gun _melted. _They said I'd have immunity for that, and I got signatures. I _ain't_ just another dumb-ass nigger." 

Crawford saw Jones was going to be a dead end. He probably believed what he said . . . but it was nonsense. _Brainwashed?_ No, that was a myth. It happened so fast, Jones synthesized it later, and came up with this . . . the only known survivor was a dead end. 

Not all leads pan out. 

Now Crawford began to think of a graceful way to leave. But if Jones wasn't going to help this story, he had turned out better than he had ever expected. _And_, Crawford thought, _Kevin Jones would make a good story himself . . . if he survives Marvell's endgame._

Crawford said, "Well, you saw what you saw. Do you have any idea _why_ this happened?" 

"No." 

Crawford noticed that Jones' wife had returned-- glided up from behind him, passed, and went to stand behind her husband. She shook her head. Then she bent down and kissed the "face" of her husband, and said, "_Don't_ call the fire department. Usagi will be_ very_ mad if you bring them in with their axes and their great big boots. Now, be nice. I have to go check on the children." 

"Do _you_ have to?" said Kevin Jones.

"If I wake up anyone--" his wife started to say.

"You already have!" called an irritated female voice from the stairs. "What's going on?" Two more young women with long blonde hair were coming down; they looked much alike, though not much like Mrs. Jones. 

Jones called out. "The _damn _elevator is stuck again!" 

The taller of the two new blondes said, "Oh for Chr . . . Come on, Aly. Who's stuck in it?" 

"Miz Chiba and Miz Umino," said Jones.

The taller one said, "Of course . . . Well, at least you aren't stuck in it this time." 

"Amen to that," said Jones.

"Excuse me . . ." said Crawford. "You look familiar." 

"You don't. I'm Dr. Gonsoles, and this is my sister Alison." 

"Alison Gonsoles? From Grosse Pointe Michigan?" Crawford asked.

"Yes, I'm Alison." She looked like she was going to say something else, but her sister spoke instead. 

"Your a _reporter,_ aren't you? God, every time I think--" 

"Mr. Crawford came to talk to me, Miz Gonsoles," said Kevin Jones.

The sisters both looked at Jones _wife_ at exactly the same time and with exactly the same expression: realization. But why were they looking at the wife instead of Jones? 

Crawford's hunch had been right after all. Alison Gonsoles _was_ the Christmas Miracle, the kid who'd turned up alive after five months, the only one who _might_ have survived the Cabin Killer. Suddenly he was _sure_ she had . . . because what was she doing in the _same_ house as another possible witness to the anomalies? 

But the moment for a confrontation that might break open the story passed before he could really believe it was there. People were streaming down the stairways now, mostly children, mostly girls. But there were two unsettling men: a small fellow with penetrating eyes and a well-built one with the catlike ease of a natural fighter. They stood quite noticeably between Crawford and the women, who were all absorbed in tending the children. The women huddled, literally; then the Gonsoles sisters went off, gathered some of the oldest children, and disappeared into the same place Mrs. Jones had before Kevin Jones had come down. 

Jones introduced the two new men as Mr. Urawa (the short one) and Mr. Kumada. Kumada did all the talking from then on--he was a one of those people who could go on for hours without saying anything, just massaging you with words. But he was also building a wall of words between Crawford and everyone else. Crawford felt Kumada knew exactly what he was doing; shifting his verbal sparring even as he changed his stance, never locking his knees, always ready to move while seeming relaxed . . . 

Crawford noticed that Jones had fallen asleep a few minutes later. His wife eased him onto his back on the couch, with infinite patience, fetching pillows and an afghan to cover him, never really rousing him. That kind of affection couldn't be bought. Officer Shaw had read this one _completely_ wrong . . . 

There was a new development eventually. The Gonsoles sisters returned carrying a woman in their arms, a woman whose legs hung like a marionette's. They carried her upstairs. The poor woman, yet another blonde who looked a lot like Jones' wife, was crying tears of embarassment; she had soiled herself, and Crawford could smell it. _A paraplegic. Trapped in their elevator for over an hour and they didn't call the fire department._

These people had something to hide, but he wasn't going to find it tonight. He managed to climb over Kumada's wall of words long enough to say "Good night." 

* * *

**Chapter 8: Doctor Mizuno**

JOHN CRAWFORD knew why his old sweetheart Debbie was so willing to put herself at risk to protect Dr. Mizuno before he spoke one word with her: He saw her stopped a dozen times coming down the hall to the lecture theatre he was waiting at. Everyone on the staff seemed to know her;some of the people who stopped her were obviously patients--including a huge tattooed outlaw-biker type she gave a little cheek-peck to and allowed to play with her toddler.

Mizuno--or Mrs. Sumi, as Crawford knew she also was--was a little mouse of a girl. Mr. Sumi was a fairly tall, skinny geek who made Bill Gates look macho in comparison; he was rich to buy not only Armani suits but Armani, if he'd cared to, but he wore mismatched sweats emblazoned "Mercurius" (his company), and trailed along behind his wife like the meekest of househusbands, fidgeting over the tiny toddler, a bold little sprite who had to be kept quite literally on a short leash. Crawford watched him take her off the restraint ribbon and give her to his wife, then get her back, set her down, and put the ribbon back on three times before they finally arrived before the lecture theatre, where the orientation for all new interns would begin. Crawford found he would only have a short time with her at best, because the dozen conversations had eaten up all but a minute or two of the time left before before the orientation would start. It had taken Dr. Mizuno nearly half an hour to cover the hundred feet from the far end of the corridor; she had doubled back several times because _she_ had spotted people.

Finally . . . "Dr. Mizuno?"

"Yes, I am Dr. Mizuno," she replied sweetly. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Crawford, Jack Crawford," he said, bowing and handing her his card--he didn't _speak_ Japanese, but he had picked up the basic ettiquette in his youth. "I am a journalist doing some investigation."

A small cloud passed briefly over her face, but she didn't show a hint of discourtesy. "You visited my friends some days ago. You wish to know more of the killer who was found dead?"

"Ah, yes." _Friends? _Crawford had kept his promise to Debbie so far; he hadn't poked around the hospital staff. "Excuse me, but _which_ friends? Waiting here for you, I see you have so many."

She presented him with her card, and nudged her husband to do the same, again very Japanese. "My friends Mr. and Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Chiba."

"Oh . . . " He hadn't expected _that_ connection.

"I am afraid I must go to the lecture in a few moments, Mr. Crawford, and I am very busy for the rest of this day. We can arrange a meeting later. But can tell you very little about the girl who was brought here. She was my patient first, so everything she told me is confidential. And I never met the killer you want to know of. I am just student, not police officer or detective." She gave her spouse and child final hugs and kisses, and, with a final bow to Crawford, excused herself to enter the lecture hall.

Crawford was left with the husband, but not for long. He activated his pager phone and started making and taking calls, mostly in other languages--at least six. One of them was Spanish, the one other language Crawford _did_ speak passably, but the conversation was so full of techno-babble, he couldn't make a thing of it. A couple of _very large_ bodyguard types (the larger was a woman) appeared soon after and kept edging him away from Mr. Sumi and his child; Crawford realized they must have been shadowing the couple all along--sure enough, now that he knew what to look for, looking back, he saw a couple more blending into the little crowd waiting for people to finish the orientation.

The only good question he got in to Mr. Sumi before he left was, "Why the guards?"

Sumi said, "I have become a wealthy man, Mr. Crawford. I worry about kidnappers all the time. And I worry about killers like this Smithfield you asked about. They always seem to take the very best ones, like Ami-chan and our daughter. Any good man would hire guards if he could afford them."

Crawford certainly hadn't gotten to ask very much or been told very much after his waiting. But, reflecting, as he always did, the few facts he had gleaned helped him decide what to look for next.

The unexpected connection between Dr. Mizuno and Jones through his wife was probably a coincidence, and not that much of one--there weren't that many recent immigrants from Japan; the grinding rural poverty that had fueled the earlier waves of emigration from Nippon was long gone. 

Seeing the care Mr. Sumi was taking for his family, Crawford wondered if there had been guards shadowing her the night of the incident. Not promising; the ones he had seen were professionals of the highest standard. They were not likely to break a client's confidentiality. But worth checking into.

Any hope of getting a line on the Pinatabo girl from Dr. Mizuno had vanished; she was not going to say one word she might think would harm her patient, and she was _very_ smart. But she might still tell him at least a little more about who had brought her in. She was so _very_ polite, he was sure she would not have offered him another meeting unless she intended to help him in at least some small way.

Crawford used the number on the card. It turned out to be part of Mercurius (not a big surprise); he asked for a meeting with Dr. Mizuno. They asked which one, and it turned out her mother also had her American affairs handled through the Mercurius company. Once it was clear which one it was he wanted, they gave him a tentative time and place, and asked him how he preferred to hear about the confirmation: phone call, mail, or several choices in electronic mail. Since the next available appointment was in October, Crawford chose old-fashioned mail. They said he should have his answer within a week.

* * *

Crawford kept his promise to Debra Hornberger by not asking the staff anything about the _case,_ but he decided it wouldn't be harmful to ask around a little more about Dr. Mizuno.

Every department head at Stanford Hospital wanted to get Dr. Mizuno into a residency in their specialty. She was the finest prospect any of them had ever seen, knowledgeable, thorough, and so personable. She _was_ the cover girl, literally--on the annual report, with her mother; on recruitment flyers; on one of the books sold in the gift shop and the campus bookstore, alongside the first woman to attend the medical school. Headhunters from everywhere kept showing up asking to see her, or even sneaking in, trying to lure her away from Stanford. Even the Secret Service, still guarding a certain famous young woman in her last year of residency, knew about Dr. Mizuno--she turned out to be a friend of _her_, too. Good enough to have her own codeword, said Crawford's Secret Service contact.

One of the department heads was actually in love with Dr. Mizuno, according to hospital gossip. His name was Dr. Yawada, the head of oncology. That was such an interesting story that Crawford let himself be sidetracked for awhile chasing it down. His best sources were a couple of nurses Crawford dated for several weeks.

According to Alice and Penny, Dr. Yawada always acted differently around Dr. Mizuno, becoming more polite and shy. He'd had a reputation as a great womanizer when he was married, which he still was when Ms. Mizuno had first appeared at the hospital, but his passion for Mizuno was something different--everyone who knew of it said so.

According to Penny, who had been in oncology for nearly her entire career at Stanford, Dr. Yawada became infatuated with Mizuno almost as soon as they met. The circumstances there turned out to be quite interesting. Ms. Mizuno had been an undergraduate at Stanford then, and she was dating a first-year medical student--Mamoru Chiba. The very same who was now Dr. Chiba, and now married to the paraplegic woman Crawford had met when he interviewed Kevin Jones.

Penny told Crawford that that was why she thought Dr. Yamada disliked Dr. Chiba so much.

Crawford decided to visit Dr. Yawada. He was very famous in his own right, and a request for an interview was nothing unusual for him.

Dr. Yawada asked to be interviewed at home. Crawford was surprised, but Dr. Yawada explained that any interview in his office was going to be interrupted, probably many times. Besides, he had read Mr. Crawford's works and liked them.

* * *

Dr. Yawada's home was a surprisingly small house, though set on a large lot in what was now a _very_ expensive neighborhood. Dr. Yawada met Crawford in shirtsleeves, and extended his hand instead of bowing; he had been living in America for a long, long time now. Still, shoes off in the house.

The living room was really an office-study, with books everywhere and two desks; the doctor obviously took his work home with him. Two chairs and a small table in the center of the room provided the guest facilities.

"Tea?" asked the doctor.

Crawford said, "Umm, not unless you have something strong. I have to drive."

Dr. Yawada said. "I am sorry. I drink only herb tea now. Stimulants do nasty things to me now that I am old."

Crawford said. "Oh, don't say that! You're not much older than me, and I'm not slowing down!" _Much._

Yawada said, "Fortunate you are . . . what is it you want to talk about, Mr. Crawford? I know nothing about any national scandals. And you are not a reporter who writes about personal scandals unless there is a larger context."

Crawford said, "Well, I have heard you are a ladies man."

The oncologist nodded once. "Personal matter. And I am really past that. It is just too silly for an old man like me. I am not even sure if I should even marry again."

Crawford said, "Not even Ms. Mizuno? If she were available, I mean."

Dr. Yawada grew very quiet. "I have never had any dishonorable feelings for Ms. Mizuno, or brought any dishonor on her. My affection for her is quite well known. But she is loved by many people. That is not newsworthy."

Crawford really did not like what he was doing to Dr. Yawada--he moved past the uncomfortable part quickly. "I also have heard that you have little affection for a Dr. Chiba, a man who was involved with Dr. Mizuno some time ago. This man may have a more direct connection with what I am investigating."

"What _are_ you investigating?" asked the doctor.

Crawford said, "It would be better if I didn't tell you exactly what. It _does_ involve the federal government."

Dr. Yawada said, "If you want me to cooperate, you must tell me what you suspect, and convince me that I won't be breaking the confidence of Ms. Mizuno. Or of the hospital."

"Well . . ." Crawford told him about the disappeared van and body, and a little about the other "anomalies." "Dr. Mizuno is an important lead, but I don't want to get her in trouble. Can you tell me more about this Dr. Chiba, for instance? I found a connection between him and all this, but he's been _very_ hard to get much on."

Dr. Yawada said, "Yes, that I understand . . . Chiba . . . Another brilliant student. I rather liked him at the very first. But his personal life is _disgraceful._ He hurt Ami-chan--Ms. Mizuno terribly. He fathered children by _three_ different women in only one year; I do not know how many more bastards he has, but there are at least two others--I have seen his _wife_ caring for them."

"In a wheelchair?" asked Crawford.

"Yes . . . you have met her?" asked Yawada.

Crawford said, "I saw her once, but we didn't have a chance to talk . . . a lovely woman."

"Yes, and wasting herself on him!" He shook his head. "I had fun with some girls in my day, but I never would break their hearts like him!"

Crawford asked, "What else do you know about him? Or have heard about him?"

Dr. Yawaka said, "I have not worked with him much. My colleagues tell me he was very good with patients and made few clinical errors. But he was absent much more than any student I have seen continue through the program. During his rotation though my department, he used up his sick days for the whole year--and I think someone in Administration covered up an additional absence."

Crawford asked, "What else? Wait, you said he _was? _Was he expelled?"

Dr. Yawada said, "_No,_ unfortunately . . . He took a surgical residency at Highland Hospital in Oakland. I think his wife wanted him closer, to keep an eye on him. I noticed that he kept his apartment even after they were married--that is the _one_ decent thing he did for Usagi, marrying her. He'd fathered a child on her years before."

"How did you know about the apartment?" asked Crawford.

The doctor shook his head. "I broke the law. I followed him home from time to time. His apartment was in Ravenswood. I'm sure he was bringing women there." He shook his head yet again. "What _honest_ man would want to live there? Dr. Hornberger made much of his work at the free clinic there, but I think he worked there just to find women, or maybe even drugs. He always tested negative, but he was very smart . . . and he was always coming in with these injuries. They could only be from fights."

Crawford asked, "Was there any trouble with police about him? Or other government agencies?"

Dr. Yamada ate a small cracker, and poured more tea, and drank most of it. "I will be as fair as I can to the man. I have seen him with police many times, but almost always that was because he had treated a criminal or a victim of a crime. He _is_ excellent at trauma care. But the first year he was in the medical school, he found a body. The police talked to him a lot about that. Including some men from the FBI."

"Body? Was the case ever solved?" asked Crawford.

"Not that I know of," said Dr. Yawada. "I do not follow the crime news. There is so much of it."

"Was it a man's body?" asked Crawford.

Dr. Yawada said, "Yes. It was found on one of the paths through the reserved areas south of the college campus, a place where hikers and joggers and bicycle-riders often go."

"Was the body burned?"

Dr. Yawada seemed puzzled for a moment. "Burned? No. No, I remember seeing it; it was in our morgue for awhile. Actually, one of my former patients. Luther Ponds was his name. He had childhood leukemia, but we successfully treated it."

"He was still your patient?" asked Crawford.

Dr. Yawada said, "No . . . actually, Mr. Ponds was a criminal. A professional criminal. He was already in a gang when I treated him. I had hoped he would leave his gang after he left, but I guess he went back to his old life."

Crawford said, "So it wasn't a surprise to find him dead. Was he murdered?"

"Possibly not, but probably," said Dr. Yawada. "Someone took the trouble of moving the body."

"How do you know that?"

Dr. Yawada explained. "Mr. Ponds drowned, but he was found far from any body of water. Dr. Hartunian performed the autopsy. The lungs were filled with water. Fresh water, so it didn't happen in the Bay. But there weren't any definite signs of struggle--some bruises and abrasions, but Dr. Hartunian said none of them were really consistent with a forcible drowning."

"So the police think it _might_ be just an accident and someone panicked, but really think it was probably a murder?" said Crawford.

Dr. Yawada, "Yes, that would be it. It was not surprising about Mr. Ponds being found dead. What is odd is the way it happened. Why bring him all the way to where he was found? I do not know precisely, but I remember police very far off the road the morning after. I actually drove by them coming to work; I did not know what they were doing until later."

"Was Ms. Mizuno involved in any way?" asked Crawford.

Dr. Yawada said, "No. I didn't first meet Ms. Mizuno until after this. Although . . . "

"What?"

Dr. Yawada had a disturbed look "I met her for the first time only a few days after this. I hadn't thought of it before. She was very different . . . troubled. I caught several glimpses of her with Chiba; they were both upset . . . I think Chiba might have told her something about this . . . perhaps something he didn't tell the police." He stopped to finish his tea. "I would like to know, but I don't think it is part of _your_ story, is it, Mr. Crawford?"

Crawford said, "I don't know. Watergate started out on the police blotter. I will look into it."

* * *

Next in Part 3, two angel incidents on the same day threaten to break the government's coverup wide open. And the joy of Kevin Jones' life may be turning to ashes . . . 

* * *

1. The NSA (National Security Agency) is really in charge of codes and codebreaking; they don't have (or aren't supposed to have) agents who go around doing other spy stuff. That is, in our world. In my Sailor Moon's world, I decided to have someone other than the FBI or the CIA do the dirty work for a change, so the NSA here expanded its functions under some aggressive, ambitious heads. There are plenty of examples of this among real government agencies. [Back][3]

* * *

**Send comments to: Thomas Sewell** **at: **([**sewell_thomas@hotmail.com**][1]) 

   [1]: mailto:sewell_thomas@hotmail.com
   [2]: #foot1
   [3]: #note1



	3. Part Three: Lake of Fire

**Nurse Venus - Part 3**

A Sailor Moon fan fiction by Thomas Sewell ([sewell_thomas@hotmail.com][1]) 

_...... Thought Quotation_

**Chapter 9: The Lake**

JACK CRAWFORD got up early and started watching the college games he had recorded the day before--he liked _college_ football; it still wasn't as much of a big business as the NFL, though he wished they would stop pretending it was anything but a professional sport. 

He'd put eight months into the investigation that had started out with the disappeared van. Every time he had stumbled onto a lead, it had come to a dead end. The association of the Gonsoles girl with Kevin Jones looked to be just a coincidence--he still _felt_ it wasn't, but he just could not think of a way that coincidence was really connected to the anomalies. 

Dr. Alvarson's mansion was not some kind of secret prison for people who knew too much; it was a chaotic place that resembled one of the communes of the sixties more than anything else--the people who lived there or kept coming back seemed like one big family. Maybe what they were hiding had something to do with that. Maybe it was really a group marriage; the kids seemed to be a _very_ mixed bunch. Or maybe some of them were illegal immigrants; INS was getting tight about that again . . . illegal adoptions. There were _lots_ of things they could be desperate to hide that had nothing to do with the "anomalies" the NSA was trying to cover up. 

Ironically, the only affect his efforts had had so far was unintentional. The rumor he had started with Jackie Jones about "secret weapon testing" had spread and become part of the ghetto mythos across the country. More tabloid stories, more trash TV, more bad movies coming . . . 

And there weren't even any more of the magic girl/angel stories, at least in the Bay Area, not that Crawford believed would be covering anomalies. The Angels of Macon _might_ be covering something, but Crawford didn't feel that he would find anything by going there now. It was already legend, and legend always wins over fact. 

Maybe it was time to give up, or at least put this one on the back burner for now. 

Crawford smiled, and shook his head. The one who was at the start of all this, Lisette Pinatabo, he _still_ hadn't spoken with. Like every Filipino family that Crawford had gotten to know, the brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins were all close, and Crawford was confident that Lisette and her parents _hadn't_ been disappeared. If they had, the rest of the Pinatabos and the entire Filipino community would have been up in arms--they were _not_ a constituency the Feds took lightly. But where Lisette was, they wouldn't tell, and Crawford couldn't ferret out. _That_ was frustrating him more than anything else; he had found people in Witness Protection before. 

When the second game was over, he switched off the VCR and the TV. He decided to go out. Strolling around Lake Merrit might help chase his blues away. 

* * *

"Yeah?" 

"He'll be at the lake. Soon." That was the end of the call. 

* * *

Marvell had just changed his bodyguards a week before. He had no particular reason for it; he just thought it was time. Nothing personal. Nothing with Marvell was really personal, except with Moms and Kev, and maybe . . . maybe Olivia. If he kept her much longer he was going to have to tell Moms. 

He shrugged. 

Tombs, the driver, said, "Whatcha thinkin', boss-man?" 

Marvell said, "A _fool_ girl . . . Watch your driving, Tombs." 

Tombs said, "I am, boss-man," Tombs dropped his act for a serious moment. "We still have our tail. Should I lose him?"

Marvell looked back. "No. Just local cops. I'm just going to see Moms and Kev. Good work, though. Keep lookin'." 

Tombs said, "I'm _always_ lookin', boss-man. I likes stayin' alive!" 

Marvell smiled at Tombs' Stepin Fetchit act. "Yeah . . . you got to _always_ be lookin', Tombs." 

The Lord of the Blues had a lot on his mind. The Reds didn't have a boss for California now; the old one had just died--a stroke. Just died, and now a half-dozen underbosses were maneuvering to replace him. They all wanted Marvell's help. But Marvell wasn't going to commit until he was sure he was backing a winner. Anyway, it was the Reds' business. Marvell wasn't about to break the truce just to piss around in their politics. When he could pick a winner, he _might_ ask for a bigger slice, taken out of the operations of the losers, but that was just a _might._

Marvell would never be a truly educated man, but he could read, and he liked to read about leaders, even white ones, if they were good. He remembered someone saying of Napoleon that his mistake was not knowing when to stop, of grabbing more than he could really control. Marvell had seen that often enough. That is why he had never really tried to expand beyond Northern California. This was all he could really keep under his own eye, and it was always hard. 

No, he'd _ask_ for the bigger slice, but he'd settle for just some token concessions. 

He looked out the armor glass windows, and saw little boys playing shootout in the greenway under the elevated train tracks. They didn't take aimed shots like cowboys when he'd been a kid; they made like they were spraying with Uzis and Macs and AKs. 

The problem with the last leader of the Reds was that he had killed off every one of his really _smart_ underbosses. Marvell didn't trust any of the ones that were left. They didn't have much more sense than the kids shooting with their fingers. And some of them were taking his refusal to interfere as an _insult._ They still thought it was a game, not a business. How had they lasted this long? 

* * *

"I thought Miz Chiba was coming," said Kevin. 

"No," answered Minako, "Your brother will be there. It's better if she doesn't come. They just don't get along." 

Kevin said, "Moms thinks she is coming." 

"We will just say she isn't feeling well," said Minako.

"Moms won't believe it," said Kevin.

Minako said, "No, but it is better than saying that Usagi hates your brother. I am sure your mother knows that. And this is our day. Your mother can visit Usagi-chan any time."

"Yeah, I guess." Kevin Jones found it odd; he hadn't really wanted Mrs. Chiba to come along, but now that she wasn't, it was something marring this perfect day. 

* * *

The "camping trip" everyone else was on was really a cover for a mission. Someone was taking children from Chicago, always in the daytime. They needed Ishtar, of course, because her emotion-sensing power had more range than anything else; she was the best chance they had of catching the man in the act of taking a child. It was the biggest combined operation the _senshi_ had ever mounted; all of them were there, except Usagi and Minako. Nothing might come of it, of course, but it had to be tried. 

Naru was with Umino and all the other children at Mercurius. Besides minding the children, they could help if Usagi needed to get into a computer system quickly, and had more help at hand for that. 

After Minako and her family left for their outing, Usagi was alone in the mansion. The elevator was finally reliable, replaced completely by some men with purple hair who had broken for meals of cornflakes and vinegar. The other _senshi _wouldn't have left her alone without a reliable elevator. 

She stayed down in the conference room in the second basement, watching colored dots move across the map on the big screen, zooming in to resolve them into more dots representing people. This pink was Chibi-Usa; that pink one was Kimi-chan; that black one with the red center was Mamoru. They were near place called Wrigley Field. Usagi wondered why the Americans would name a place for chewing gum. 

* * *

Marvell Jones looked at Kevin walk off toward the boat dock, marveling at how well he was able to move on his canes. Then he stared down at the tiny hand holding his finger. Achilles looked at him fearlessly with his deep brown eyes. 

"Looks just like you when you were a baby," said Moms. 

Marvell said, "He looks just like any other little baby. No hair and no teeth. And he's so light. Lighter than Isis." 

Moms said, "He'll get darker. You were pretty light for awhile." 

Marvell said, "I guess . . . Tombs, take us up to Skyline. We'll stop a few minutes and come back." He turned back to his mother. "Moms." 

"Yes, Marvell?" 

Marvell said, "There's a girl I've been seeing a lot . . . Name's Olivia." 

"Yes," said Moms.

"Maybe you should meet her," said Marvell.

Now Isis had his finger. 

* * *

John Crawford was still strolling, coming up on his first lap of the lake, and thinking about whether he should do another. Still a lot of blues to leave behind . . . 

He noticed John Shaw sitting in a car with another man. Obviously surveillance; Shaw have him the merest raise of an eyebrow as Crawford looked over. Then Shaw pulled out in his car. 

Looking up ahead, he saw a long Benz pulling onto the drive . . . Marvell Jones'. Shaw took another look at the single boat in the lake. _Damn. Kevin and the wife._ He'd come out to the park to get away from the story for awhile, and here it was again. 

He stopped, and actually got off the walk and sat down on the grassy slope that led down to the lake. He looked out at the boat, to his side at Marvell the big gangster, and up in the sky. The blimp he had seen cruising around was far to the south, but it was coming back. 

* * *

Jean Sauvage was a French citizen, married to a Senegalese. He'd come with his wife and children to visit his wife's sister's family in Oakland, and found the city surprising. He'd brought his video camera to the lake. He noticed the boat coming up, and he thought it would be nice if he could get a shot of his family and relatives and the boat, especially as the shadow of the blimp passed over. 

* * *

"I think it was here," said Minako. 

"No," said Kevin. "You asked me to marry you back there." 

"But it was here you started to tell me you loved me," said Minako.

She set down the oars and got up to kiss him. 

* * *

It had been an easy drive up to Skyline for a change. Marvell and his mother were at an overlook, with the babies between them, looking out at the city, where a blimp was starting to fly over Lake Merrit. They could just make out a speck that would be the boat. 

"Olivia . . ." said Moms. "What's wrong with her?" 

Marvell continued to look toward the city. "She's Filipino, Moms. Catholic, too." 

Moms said, "Well . . . at least she's Christian. I do wonder if I _ever_ will really get Kevin's wife into the Church." 

"That's--" Marvell was going to say _not what I expected you would say,_ but his cellphone rang. Annoyed, he opened it. "What?" he said, dropping his usual phone courtesy. 

"Marvell, this is B. Q." 

"B. Q.?" _Bill Quincy._ Probably the stupidest of the Red underbosses now, the one Marvell was most sure would have to go before the Reds settled on a workable leadership. 

B.Q. said, "Sorry to bother you when you with your moms, but you might want to think about your moms." 

Marvell said, "What the . . . what do you mean?" 

B.Q. said, "Think about your moms the next time I ask you to help. And remember Kev." 

* * *

Crawford had been looking at the couple in the boat, like a lot of people around the lake. If Jack Crawford had ever been in combat, he would have been rolling down as soon as he saw what was happening. He heard the sounds coming from across the lake: horns blaring, doors opening, peculiar metallic sounds . . . and looked beyond the boat and saw a lot of young African-American men, all with guns--except one which had something worse . . .

* * *

Kevin got up to meet Minako's kiss, and the boat began to wobble. That is when he spotted the shooters spilling out of their cars. 

Kevin Jones _had_ seen combat. The instant he saw them, he grabbed Minako and pushed her into the water. And, of course, fell in himself . . . 

* * *

The camera crew in the blimp were really just waiting for the game to start, although there were ten-second cut-ins on the national feed for game teasers. They just happened to be coming up on one when they neared the lake. The camaraman persuaded the others that the best shot would be to start from the lake, zoomed in on the couple in the boat, then zoom out and pan up to the Coliseum. 

The announcer looked at the feed. "Here are two people are warming up for the game in Oakland, California, at six o'clock eastern, five Central, and three Pacific time." It was a nice shot, the couple standing up to kiss just as the shot ended. "Oops . . . well, I guess they're going to have to dry off for--JESUS CHRIST!" 

Something streaked into the boat and blew it to bits. 

* * *

Kevin Jones was already drowning. There was an awful ache in his ribs; he must have been hit. 

Suddenly everything was green around him. _Was this it?_ he thought. The ache was going away, he was numb or tingling everywhere. 

But he did feel something. Arms around him, from behind. Hair was floating past him, long, long hair . . . _Minako._ Minako had come for him. 

Suddenly his head was above the water. He couldn't see very well . . . but he could hear bullets. Something wrapped around him, and he heard loud _thumps . . . _and a _Whoomp . . . _Minako screaming . . . 

He was in the water again. The green light came again, flashing, on and off, on and off. It was very bright just above him . . . Minako was still holding him, under his arms . . . 

Then they were out of the water again. He could see Minako's face above him, shining--glowing brighter than the sun from her forehead. More _thumps _came_--_he saw blood fall from Minako's head down into his face. It ran into his eyes. He squinted, put his head down . . . 

The ground was falling away below. . . he must be dead. He could see the lake below, pieces of the boat, a couple of burning cars, boys laying still on the ground below. He could still hear firing, but the bullets weren't close. Why did that matter? He closed his eyes. He heard something _shriek, _and a loud explosion . . . 

Kevin opened his eyes. Minako was kissing him . . . Blowing breath into his mouth. But she was an angel, with great white wings. 

Great white _wings._

And she was bloody. Her hair was matted with blood. 

Someone else was talking, bending over him . . . it was Sarah, and Kimberly, and they were angels too, but they had black wings. And a man in a. . . tuxedo? The were talking another language . . . Japanese; he had heard it enough to know what it was. 

Kimberly had three eyes, and the third one, much larger, glowed for a moment. She said something. 

Suddenly, they were in a hospital. Minako was still there, and Sarah, and Kimberly. No one had wings, or a third eye . . . 

More familiar faces over him, Carmen and Ginger, the girl doctors. He must really be at Highland Hospital . . . 

* * *

Crawford noticed he was bleeding. He was missing the end of a finger . . . just clipped off by a bullet or something. 

He'd sat and watched the whole thing, frozen in place. The rocket hitting the boat, the baby gangsters firing, and the angel rising from the water to start burning them down. She was holding someone, fighting to save him . . . or she would have finished the shooters in seconds. 

There were more angels at the end; he just caught the one that burned the last two cars. It was so _fast,_ so _bright._

The last thing he noticed was one of the boys throwing down his gun and backing away from an angel hovering just above him. He was the only one of the shooters Crawford could see who was not hit. 

* * *

**Chapter 10: Sensation**

KEVIN JONES opened his eyes. He could see a curtain ahead . . . above it, some ceiling. He could smell disinfectent. He was in a hospital. 

He tried to get up. He couldn't. He had tubes coming into him . . .The curtain moved. 

"Moms. . . .Minako? . . . Where's Minako?" 

"In another ward. She'll be all right, dear." 

"Bleeding . . . saw her bleeding." 

"She'll be all right, son." 

"I . . . thought she . . . she was an angel." 

He faded out again. 

* * *

John Crawford was the only journalist allowed in the emergency room when they started bringing the shooters in--because he was a patient, still waiting for someone to finish up the treatment of his clipped finger. He immediately noticed the feature common to most of the shooters: they were blind. 

That is, most of the ones who were still alive. 

Crawford stumbled onto yet another windfall: the boy he had seen throwing down his gun. Cops were guarding him while his ankle was checked, then put in a splint. He hadn't been injured when he'd seen him back away from the fight--and the winged thing that was floating in front of him. He managed to get the name from his chart: Louis Spotts. Spotts was whisked away as soon as his ankle was set. 

He called in his story as soon as he could find a place to call. 

* * *

The camera from the blimp caught the couple in the boat falling in the water, and then the boat blowing up, and then panned up to the men shooting, and stayed on them until the end of the combat. But the electronics were fried before the end, because Chibi Moon had been watching a TV in Chicago when she saw the battle start. She materialized with Tuxedo Mask and Kimi Moon just outside the gondola of the blimp, and helped by Kimi's eye, started firing precise blasts at the men who were still shooting at Sailor Venus. The cameraman did not see her beside the gondola, but two others did, including the co-pilot. The cameraman did see her materialize with Kimi Moon in front of Louis Spotts, but did not know his camera was dead. 

Spotts and the little moons were fifteen feet away from Jean Sauvage, close enough for his microphone to pick up everything that was said. 

But Jean Sauvage flew back to Paris that night. So the NSA was able to keep a partial lid on the story for a little while. Calls to the FBI secured the tapes from the TV crews at the dock end of the lake and the helicopter. 

But there was a problem in Chicago . . . 

* * *

Ishtar was with Ami and Cooan, the Ayakashi sister who was the best teleporter, and Hotaru, who could both fight and protect strongly, and whose healing powers might be needed to help a victim if they actually caught the man. With Mercury's computer-sensor, they hoped to get the most out of Ishtar's powerful ability to sense emotions. Shingo was also along, perhaps not a wise choice, but Usagi had not had the heart to tell him to stay behind. 

They were supposed to stay in the center of the search. The other sisters provided teleport power for three other groups. The other Chibi sailors, like Chibi Venus, had good powers for sensing and could fly very fast, but they didn't have any attacks better than wing strikes yet. The first generation _senshi_ were split up to support them. The strongest group was the four Asteroid _senshi, _Uranus, Neptune, and their children, both Chibi senshi--Nereid was the youngest of all; she had fantastic hearing, and could "lend" her power like Kimi's eye, though so far only to her mother. The group was so large because none of them was a very powerful teleporter, although together they could teleport anywhere. They were the south point of the search arc, moving furthest from the Lake Michigan shore, in position to intercept someone fleeing the city. 

Mamoru, Chibi-Usa, and Kimberly formed the west point of the search, going along the path Ishtar's group should follow. Chibi Moon was the strongest teleporter, the best flyer, and had a strong attack. She could take Mamoru and her sister to any other group quickly. 

The other three groups were north of Ishtar's group, searching through the more densely built up areas closer to the lakeshore. 

The search would go on all day. If they covered the whole city, the plan was to double back. 

That was the plan . . . 

* * *

Ishtar began to be worried. It was hard to feel so many emotions, tuning in for the ones she was looking for. She guided in on two frightened children who had been locked in their bathroom for a long time, days, but their parents had done this thing. The _senshi _tried calling the police, but they just didn't seem to be coming, so Makoto had Karaberas take the abandoned children back to the mansion. 

The _senshi_ returned to the search pattern a little after noon. Everyone was upset at finding children who had been so frightened, but Ishtar, who had felt their emotions, was especially troubled. She asked to stop for awhile. They stopped at a mall. They found a place with one of Ishtar's favorite treats, hot cinnamon buns. She got one for herself, and two to take back to the children they had found. But when she took her to the restroom, Ami found that Ishtar was still upset. She wanted her mother. She started to throw up, and Ami took her to the only empty stall, the one on the far end. Ishtar insisted on going in alone; she was a very modest little girl. Ami let her. She stepped outside to get Cooan. But when they came back, Ishtar was gone. Cooan took down the door to the stall--not with powers but with panicked strength. They saw there was an access door in the wall of the stall--and it was loose. 

Ami could smell something. She transformed and used her sensor. "Chloroform!" She called for help. Hotaru and Shingo came immediately. Mercury used her sensor to trace the service areas the access panel opened into--there was no one in them. But there was what looked like an exit not very far away. "Take us there!" she told Cooan, pointing out a spot. 

They materialized in the parking lot, on the roof of the car. Mercury formed her wings and rose, scanning around, looking--a car was trying to leave, but a mall cop had stopped it. It was close to the exit. She couldn't scan well enough, so she tried the direct approach: she flew to the car. 

The cop was about to let his stop go--he really didn't want to bother a father with a sleeping kid. But then he saw something big flying toward him. He drew his gun. 

That is when the compassionate "father" drew his own gun and shot the mall cop. 

Mercury launched a bubble cloud to keep him from shooting anyone else, and then a water stream--but she missed, because the man was backing up. 

Then Cooan jumped with Hotaru in back of him. He slammed on his brakes, but not quite in time. Saturn presented her glaive, and it came in through his back window, and then went out through the front . . . along with his head. 

Ami caught up. She checked Ishtar and found she was all right. Then she shouted, "The Policeman!" in Japanese. Shingo had already come to the policeman and was giving him CPR. Amy scanned him and showed Hotaru where to use her power. She healed the hole in his heart and the one that had hit a kidney, but she did not have enough power left to close the other wounds. 

Ami was working so hard to save the man's life she did not notice the city policemen coming up. Neither did Hotaru, or Shingo, until they came up and put handcuffs on them. 

Cooan was gone, with Ishtar. But, of course, there _was_ a headless man in the car, and over a hundred people had seen Hotaru kill him. 

* * *

When Cooan popped into the mansion, the first thing she did was shout for Usagi. But Usagi shouted for Cooan to come. 

Usagi was back in the control room; she'd sent up Makoto, Ryo, and their children with the ones they had found before. She had just seen her family's group vanish from Chicago, and was trying to find it. But then she saw Ishtar in Cooan's arms. 

"What happened?" cried Usagi.

Cooan said, "The man kidnapped _her!_ We caught him just in time, but the police have arrested the rest of my group! Including your brother!" 

"Is Ishtar all right?" asked Usagi.

"Yes, but she has been drugged," said Cooan.

Usagi called for Mako as Cooan set Ishtar onto one of the padded benches. Usagi returned to the screen controls, saying "Mamoru and my children are off the screen, and they don't answer my calls. I must find them with their tracers." 

Cooan said, "No, we must get my group back first! The police will take their tracers and everything else as soon as they get them to a station! We may not be able to find them soon!" 

Usagi made a difficult choice. She zoomed back in on Chicago, found where Shingo, Hotaru, and Ami were, and sent messages to all the senshi there. Cooan knew something of Chicago because of her Grey Company work, and she guessed the police were taking her people to their main headquarters. "That would be the best place for the others to wait." 

Usagi said, "Thank you, I will send them there . . . try to find my children and Mamoru. Use one of the consoles." 

Then Mamoru called to report the fight at the lake. He asked Usagi to alert Carmen and Ginger so they could get Minako and her husband into the hospital. Usagi called Kevin's mother to check on the babies and tell her where to meet her son and Minako; then she sent Cooan and Mako back to Chicago. And that is when the three police cars with Shingo, Sailor Mercury, and Sailor Saturn arrived at their headquarters, and the NSA got another headache . . . 

* * *

Not surprisingly, the arrest of two angels interested the press. They were out in force by the headquarters--actually, the commissioner had called many of them in. He was in a difficult point in his career, and he thought a spectacular arrest would help. Costumed nuts who cut off heads qualified. It could take off some of the heat for failing to catch the latest serial killer . . . 

Ami couldn't reach her earring, but her sensor was down anyway--the police assumed it was just an odd pair of glasses. Unfortunately it was set for microsurgery and she was quite blind. 

But Saturn wasn't. Spying friends in the crowd, she said to Mercury in Japanese, "Bubble cloud now!" 

When the cloud dissipated, the police had lost their prisoners right on the front steps, in front of the cameras. And the murder weapon, carried in held high like Lee Harvey Oswald's rifle. 

* * *

The FBI had been interested in the man who lost his head in Chicago, and (with the help of some anonymous tips) had enough evidence to announce _their_ solution to the case within 24 hours. The Police Commisioner pulled the ripcord on his golden parachute. And Chicago, a great newspaper town, had great columns about the about the angels. One paper ran the headline: ANGELS STOP KILLER, SAVE COP, GET ARRESTED. 

* * *

Predictably, after two days, the only feasible way to separate Makoto from the children she had taken from their heartless parents was with nuclear weapons. Kurume sent lawyers and called in some favors, and the parents, facing prosecution, agreed to surrender custody. They were named Tammy and Philip, and they soon thrived in the love they found in their new home. 

* * *

Kevin Jones came home after three weeks, not nearly fully recovered, but able to get along with professional care at home. Since he was married to a nurse, and there were three doctors living in the house, he did not lack for that. 

Jones had changed his habits by then. He hated using earpieces or even headphones, so he tried some of Mrs. Chiba's books to pass the time. He loved having Minako read to him, but he could read pretty well by himself after all of Mina's tutoring. 

Kevin liked TV and radio even less after the hit at the lake because there was so much news about the war Marvell was in. Marvell hadn't told him, and he hadn't asked, but he knew the war had started with the attempt to kill him and Minako. He didn't like to think of that at all. All the best things in his life had come from Minako. Was she going to get killed with him, for what he'd done? Or just to get at Marvell? Or just to clean house after Marvell was gone? 

No reporters were allowed to see him at the hospital. Police asked him questions, lots of questions, but he didn't have much to say. No, he didn't really know how he'd gotten to the hospital; he'd had crazy dreams or hallucinations. Angels? His Minako was an angel, but not that kind. Why would people want to kill him? Ask them; he didn't have the damndest idea. Why would anyone want to kill a beautiful woman who had never hurt anyone and a harmless cripple like himself? 

Actually, he believed most of that. Who would be stupid enough to try to kill him to get to Marvell _now_? Marvell could wipe any crew in the country. Minako was right; as long as his rep held up, the smart fighters would always want to work for Marvell. 

If Marvell was even smarter, Kevin thought, he'd walk away from the business on top. Moms was always really wanting that now, but she didn't say it right out. Kevin didn't say it at all. But seeing Marv with the babies he'd made with Minako, and looking at him sometimes after, Kevin wondered if maybe Marvell thought Kev was the smart one, for once . . . 

No TV, no radio, no papers, no magazines. Old books and the comics the kids were always reading. Old music Michie the green lady liked. Nothing to remind him of boys not old enough to grow a decent mustache dying in piss and shit and blood--that was what a fight was really like, and it ate up the baby bangers like the ones in the lead car almost as fast as the demons he'd fought. 

Kevin was an old man now. Not old enough for a legal drink in California, but the last male survivor of his first grade homeroom. He knew that now. One of Mina's friends had looked them up. Seven gang hits, four overdoses, two HIV, one hepatitis, one shot by cops, one dead in custody, one lethal injection, two suicides, two in fires, one shot while being robbed, one shot while robbing, one shot in an argument, and one shot by a stray bullet. Four of the girls were dead, too . . . 

* * *

B.Q. (William Quincy, not an acceptable street name) lasted less than a week. Marvell tried to stop the war after that, but it got more complicated. Two of the other underbosses died in the next week. The remaining three got together, for the moment, and decided that Marvell and the other Blues must have been planning to take over the Reds in California all along. The two Blue bosses in Southern California called on Marvell for help and he had to send some of his best men. 

Marvell was at the top of a gang that had more than a thousand members in Northern California, but he never had more than forty or fifty real fighting men, and half of them were really managers. Sending a dozen men to help down south left him stretched thin. 

The angel girls seemed to be staying out of this war, except for the Lake. Why had they saved Kev? Especially since they had attacked him, if Kevin's recollection had more truth in it than Marvell had believed earlier. 

The police got nothing out of Louis Spotts, but Marvell's men inside the jail did. It sounded crazy--except that Spotts said things about the Lisette Pinatabo case that the cops hadn't released. Marvell had gotten it from his sources in the three police departments involved 

Still, it just sounded _too_ crazy. Those stories about the CIA testing weapons on blacks--_they_ made more sense than angels wearing skimpy sailor-costumes out of some silly-ass Japanese cartoon. A lot of the Reds and even a lot of his own men had bought into that, but there never seemed to be any hard proof.

Marvell didn't have a lot of time to waste speculating on exactly who or what had saved Kevin at the lake. He had a war to fight, and a business to run. 

Then, four weeks after the Lake Merrit incident and the Chicago Angels, _Paris Match_ published frames from Jean Sauvage's video. And from then on, Marvell and a lot of other reasonable people started believing there _were_ flying girls with strange powers. 

* * *

By now, the rumor that John Crawford had started in Jackie Jones' kitchen was becoming a political problem. Pictures of young African-American men being blinded, or their heads exploding, or being reduced to cinders by violet blasts were burned into the national retina. 

The only clear pictures of the angels firing were taken by the news team, and were now in NSA vaults. Sauvage's film showed the boat, showed beams coming out of the water, and showed the slaughter, but it didn't show angels until the end--and while they looked very odd, it was not a two headed monster, it was a little girl with wings and a littler girl with wings--and a third eye. The unnaturalness was canceled out by the sweet voices that were clearly recorded on the video: 

"You helped the little girl in the van." 

"Run away before the police come." 

Since Spotts was also clearly visible, he suddenly became a VIP prisoner. 

* * *

Crawford got wind of the confiscated tapes and started calling the people who used _him_ as a source. Facing some critical runoff elections that could lose his party's majority, the President booted a few NSA butts. The tapes, "misplaced" by the FBI (which traded funding for a secret project for taking the heat) were released four days after the full Sauvage tape was first shown. They clearly showed the twin flyers firing the violet beams; with enhancement, it showed the angel that had risen out of the water firing a laser beam from her head, downing most of the shooters (including all the blinded ones). They also showed her carrying someone in her arms, and showed her resuscitating him on the shore, the other angels joining her with an unidentified man wearing a tuxedo and a mask--and then all of them vanishing. 

Full disclosure. No secret weapons testing. 

Of course, the next day, there were rumors that the government was secretly breeding mutants to hunt down young African-American men . . . but they didn't spread that far. Jean Sauvage's film made the "mutants" too sympathetic. 

* * *

**Chapter 11: Ishtar's Dream**

KEVIN JONES woke up and found Ishy was in his bed; Minako was gone. 

Minako would likely be gone until morning, she'd warned. That was bitter; she was obviously having affairs. No matter how much Kevin wanted to believe differently, he knew he just couldn't satisfy all her needs the way he was. But he couldn't be angry at her; she wasn't doing it to hurt him; she'd never do that. He'd stopped asking for explanations of her absences a long time ago now. It was much like how he had shut out the men who had come and gone through Moms' life, before Moms gave that up. But with Ishy waking him up with her bad dreams all the time, always with Minako gone, he had too many hours alone at night to shut out the thoughts of Minako with another man . . . other men . . . men with faces and hands . . .

Poor Ishy.

Kevin was now used to hearing Sarah scream at night when she woke up from a nightmare. Afterward, Sarah she would start avoiding him and giving him looks for awhile. Her mother, who was really the lady of the house even when her own mother and father were home, was always upset for at least a day, and argued with everyone over the least thing.

But when he was finally recovering from the attack at the lake, he realized that Mina's daughter Ishtar was having nightmares just as bad and more often. Sarah's nightmares were really her own and her parents' business, but Kevin felt he should try to do something to help Ishy. He wasn't her father, but he was sure around more than her father. Or even her mother, when Ishy needed her most.

Minako was tired all the time. She was working and studying to become a surgical nurse now so she could work with her doctor friends. She spent more time with Ishy than Kevin when she was home. She fretted. But Ishy kept having the nightmares. And she started playing sick to keep out of school--Kevin knew all about that game, but it was nothing like Ishy had done before.

Minako did everything for Ishy _but_ stay home every night to be there for Ishy when the nightmares came. That was so hard for Kevin, to see Ishy the way she was, not able to help her, really, and thinking that there was only one thing that could keep Minako out: she must really be in love with another man now, not just catting around . . .

The kids old enough to use stairs slept in the loft rooms except for Ishy, Kimi, and Sarah. They had the room between Kevin and Mina's and the Chibas. They had seperate beds, but they often shared, especially Ishi and Kimi, whom a lot of people thought were twins until they found out they had different mothers.

Now Ishy _never_ wanted to sleep alone, and about every other morning, Kevin found her in bed next to Minako--the other times, she slept with her father and his wife.

When Kevin started to ease out of bed to get to the bathroom, Ishy started fussing, almost like a baby, and scooted closer, still asleep. If he got up, she might wake up. And if he left her, she might have another nightmare and wake up alone. So Kevin broke one of his house rules. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully used the urinal, and managed not to drop it or upset it while setting it down again. After bending down and up again to do this, his back felt like it was on fire for awhile.

Kevin watched Ishy in the moonlight for a long time, wondering what she was dreaming about. Sarah and Kimi were gone tonight, overnight guests somewhere, and her father was on duty at the hospital. Kevin wondered why she wasn't with Mrs. Chiba. But this wasn't the first time he'd found her like this . . .

Ishy always tried to be brave, but she could get scared, and something must have given her a bad scare. Kevin knew about bad scares . . .

Ishy began shaking, moving, talking, talking in Japanese and English mixed together. Then she started weeping and talking louder . . .

Kevin Jones switched on the light, and said "It's okay, it's okay." He was afraid to touch Ishy with his hands; they were so clumsy and scratchy; he lay his forearm carefully on her head. She roused before she really started to scream. "Bad dream, Ishy?"

"_Hai . . . _Yes." She talked slowly. She'd had nightmares the two nights before; she had to very, very tired.

Kevin said, "You're safe. Ain't no ugly monsters here but me."

Ishy said, "You're not a monster, Uncle Kevin" She closed her eyes. "You wouldn't hurt children like the man."

"The man in the dream?" Kevin asked.

"Yes."

"But he's just in the dream," Kevin said.

"But there are really men like him," said the little girl.

"Like what?" asked Kevin. "What does he do?"

Ishy said, "He goes around looking for children to catch. Sometimes he drives a van, sometimes a car. Sometimes he waits behind walls . . . behind the wall."

Kevin said, "Behind the wall? That don't happen 'cept in scary movies . . . Ishy, you're safe. Any man comes in here to try to steal you, I'll show him my face and scare him to death."

Ishy said, "You aren't scary, Uncle Kevin . . . "

Kevin said, "Well, I'll whup on his head with my canes . . . can I turn the light off?"

"Please don't," Ishy said.

"Okay . . . Just go to sleep. No bad men here," said Kevin reasuringly.

She started to drift off, but then she made her eyes open. She did this again, and again. Finally she said, "Uncle Kevin?"

"Yes?"

"I need to go to the bathroom. Could you come with me? And wait just outside?"

Would have been nice if you'd had to go a few minutes ago . . . "Sure . . . just a minute, got to get my canes."

The house was a little spooky; too quiet somehow. Kevin thought about checking the rooms, but that would be intruding. He switched on lights or turned them up as he passed, making the path to the bathroom brighter. Ishy went in and closed the door, and by the sounds, turned on every single light, and looked in all the cabinets, before starting her business.

She was inside for a long time.

Suddenly she started screaming. He called through the door but she didn't answer. He came in. She was curled up on the floor in her gown. He knelt down, always a very painful effort, and tried to talk her out of it again.

"Ishy, Ishy, it's Uncle Kev. What's the matter, you fall asleep and have another bad dream?"

Ishy cried, "He came through the wall! He came through the wall and put something over my face! I couldn't move, I couldn't see, but I could feel what he wanted! I could feel what the other girls felt! I shouldn't have made Auntie Ami leave!"

"Auntie Amy? What's she doing in your dream?" asked Kevin.

Ishy said, "It's not a dream . . . he almost got me. He almost got me . . . I want mama. I want _okasan._"

Kevin said, "She's not here, Ishy . . . She'll be home . . . Want to go to Miz Chiba?"

She sat up, really awake now, still shaking a little, but better. "No . . . I shouldn't have told you. Promise not to tell?"

"Tell what?" asked Kevin.

"That the man almost got me."

"Ishy, that was just a dream," said Kevin patiently.

She wiped her eyes, and blew her nose on some toilet paper. Then, after putting her head down for a short while, a sign Kevin knew meant _let me alone just now_, Ishi looked back up at him and said, "You really love mama, and you love me, like I was one of the babies you made with _okasan_."

"Who wouldn't love you, child?"

"The man. The men like him." She looked into him for awhile, as if she was seeing inside him, sort of like the spooky way Moms or Mrs. Chiba or sometimes Sarah or Kimi would. "You are hurting, Uncle Kevin."

"I'm always hurting. But . . ." He sat down on the floor, not quite as painful as kneeling. "That's better."

"No, that's not what I mean, Uncle Kevin. You must think mama is with another man all the times she is gone like now, and it breaks your heart. That is a worse hurt than the ones in your arms and your legs."

Kevin said, "What gives you ideas like that, child? I love your mother."

Ishy said, "You love her, but you would not hurt like you are hurting if you did not think so . . . I want to tell you something to make the hurt go away but you must promise not to tell mama or anyone. Not even your mama."

Kevin held up his hand, prepared to swear to keep whatever fool idea she had secret. "I swear."

Ishy said, "All right . . . Mama isn't with another man like you think. She is out looking for another bad man. I think she is with Kimi and Chibi-Usa tonight."

"And where are they?" Kevin asked.

"Somewhere in Washington."

"Really?"

Ishy said, "Yes, really. I used to go out and help them, but I'm too scared to help now. When we found the little girl here, mama was with me, but when the man took me, she wasn't. If _okasan _had come with me, the man wouldn't have got me."

"Your mama wasn't with you in the dream?" asked Kevin.

Ishy said, "The dream is about what happened, that is why it is so scary."

Kevin said, "Dreams can be very real. But they go away. I used to have bad dreams a lot."

Ishy said, "You still don't believe me. Your heart is still broken . . . do you remember when _okasan_ pulled you out of the lake?"

Kevin said, "I remember some, but it is all mixed up. That happens sometimes. Sometimes you don't remember what really happened. I think you don't remember something right. That's why you think the man in the dream was real."

Ishy said, "No, he was real before he was in the dream. He's all the men mixed up sometimes, even . . . the thing Chibi-Usa told me about. I'm not supposed to know about that . . . You don't believe me."

Kevin said, "I believe that _you_ believe it, Ishy. But I think it's not really true."

She got up. "Let me help you, Uncle Kevin."

"Thanks, but you're still a little thing. I'll manage." He got up with no more than the usual struggle. "All right. Let's go back and get some sleep, or we can go downstairs for awhile."

"Yes."

Ishtar went to the elevator, walking ahead, waiting for him to catch up, walking ahead . . . She was the most loving child he had ever met, always considerate and always reminding other people, gently, to be sensitive. Kevin hoped just being with her and listening to her was helping. But at least he was here. _Why did Minako do this _so_ much?_

As they went down in the elevator, Kevin struggled to keep down the hurt little Ishy had found. Ishy always guessed right about feelings. This was so much like her, trying to fix what just couldn't be fixed . . . 

He thought about killing the man, whoever he was. But even if he could do it, killing the man wouldn't do anything but make things worse. It was the hold this other man had over Minako's heart he wanted to kill, but he knew he couldn't kill that with a bullet. All he could do was hold on and hope he would go away.

Kevin had thought, when he'd allowed himself to think, that the other man was probably Dr. Chiba; Ishy was his, after all. But since Kevin had recovered, Minako had _always _been gone on nights when Dr. Chiba was at home, and when Dr. Chiba was at home, he was with Mrs. Chiba, _all the time._ And when Dr. Chiba was out, Minako was home, all night, except this time. So it had to be someone else, at least on the other nights . . .

He'd lost track. "Ishy, honey, you pressed the wrong button. We're in the basement now."

"No I didn't, Uncle Kevin."

"What the--" There were five floor indicator lights in the present elevator car, for the loft, the bedroom level, the darkroom and the theatre, the ground floor, and the basement. But the basement light had come on, then gone off, and they were still going down.

Ishy said, "This is the place we don't tell about. I'm in trouble for telling you, but you don't tell anyone else. Not even your mama. Swear?"

"Yeah, sure, swear."_What was going on? Was _this_ a dream? . . . no, just a funky elevator._ Kevin was relieved when the door opened; they weren't going to be stuck, like the old one was always doing.

But the place Ishy walked out into was _not_ the basement he had seen many times when Minako had taken him down for soaks in the hot bath.

She walked out a few steps, and waited for him to catch up, of course. He stepped out, and began the process of following her again. A woman was talking, loud, nasal, scratchy . . . one of the women who visited a lot. She was speaking Japanese. But she suddenly switched into English.

"There they are, Tammy, Philly. See? Just outside of Olympia. That's in Washington. I'm going back to them now."

"Can we go with you, auntie?" said a tiny voice.

"No, you better stay here. You can stay in here and keep Auntie Usagi company, but don't touch any of the computer stuff." Then she switched back into Japanese for a minute, and stopped.

It was very quiet when she stopped. Without her loud voice, the sound of Kevin moving on his canes and clumsy legs was obvious.

He heard Mrs. Chiba call out in Japanese; then she said in English, "Who's there?"

Before Kevin could answer, Ishy called out, "It's me and Uncle Kevin!"

"What?" Usagi came wheeling out into wherever they were--he could see behind her through the door she had come through a big room, with a huge screen showing lights on a map.

"Mama Usagi, we must tell Uncle Kevin what _okasan _is really doing. His heart is breaking. He is trying to help me not be scared but he can't help if he doesn't know, I think. And his heart is breaking because he thinks mama is with another man. Please tell him, Mama Usagi. I know I must be punished for telling but you must tell him, too, so he believes. His heart is breaking and I cannot stand to feel it any more. Please? Could you bring _okasan_ back here? It won't take long and I will go back and help. I'm not so scared right now. Please? Please?"

Mrs. Chiba looked back and forth between them.

"I didn't know about this place," said Kevin. "Sorry, she has some mixed up ideas." 

Mrs. Chiba was looking through him again . . . but then she started to cry. Then she wheeled to Ishy, and hugged her, actually picked her up and put her in her lap. Kissing Ishy on the head, she said, "No, you won't be punished. You should have asked before, but you won't be punished." 

Mrs. Chiba raised her watch to her face, did something with it, and spoke some Japanese.

Suddenly, Minako, and Kimi, and Sarah were in front of him. They were angels, like his dream at the lake . . . and Kimi had three eyes.

Mrs. Chiba spoke some more Japanese. Then she said, "This is what Mina-chan does when she leaves at night. She is not hunting other men to have sex with. She is hunting men who rape and murder, to stop them. As I once did."

Suddenly, Mrs. Chiba had wings, great black ones, with streaks of color--and silver skulls in her hair, which he realized were exactly what were in Sarah's hair and in Kimi's hair in smaller form. She was grimacing, in pain, and Ishy was crying, and _she_ had wings.

"You made me as I am, Kevin Jones," she gasped out. "Tell her, Venus!"

Minako looked at Kevin with more tears than he had ever seen. "I made you what you are, Kevin-chan."

And her forehead was glowing . . .

* * *

Kevin woke up. Minako was on the bed, looking at him. It was bright day. For a moment he thought it was all a dream . . . and then he noticed that Ishy was asleep between them, on her side, nuzzling her wings into his side, holding on to Minako's gown with one hand.

"She just fell asleep," Minako whispered. "She feels safer when she has her wings."

"Why?" was all he could say.

Somehow, Minako divined what he wanted the answer to. "I don't know. All I can still say is that I care. She says I have so many feelings, I do not know. But she says it is because I love you. And she knows feelings. That is her special power. So . . . do you believe her?"

Kevin closed his eyes. He didn't want to look into Minako's sad, sad eyes now. But . . .

Kevin Jones said, "When we were on the lake the first time, I meant everything . . . you are the only one I can ever love like I do. But you are the one in my nightmares, you and Miz Chiba . . . not so different, after all, are we? In a fight, everything is so fast . . . but you remember everything, for years, forever . . . make one mistake, and you live with it, or you don't."

"When do you want to leave?" said Minako.

"Who said I'm leaving?"

"But you know . . . you know," said Minako.

Kevin said, "You knew. Isn't it better not to hide it now? . . . I ain't the dumbest nigger around. I didn't put it all together because I didn't want to--that's why Sarah had it so easy foolin' with my head. But . . . I want to learn to be more than just what I am here now. I want to be on your crew. I can't fight, but I know about fighting, more than Marvell."

Minako said, "You don't have to prove anything to me. You really saved me at the lake. I can't stop bullets when I'm not transformed. I owe you everything just for that."

"I need to be a man. A man does what he can for his family and his crew," said Kevin.

"Kevin-chan, we may have to fight your brother," said Minako.

"I won't fight him if I can help it. But Marvell . . . he can get so _cold_ sometimes." He looked up into Minako's eyes, still sad, but showing a little hope. "Kimi says she can see me as I'm supposed to be, with her special eye. Use it some time. Try to see me that way."

"I always have, Kevin-chan. I do not need Kimi-chan's eye to see that," said Minako.

He reached out to touch her face, as if he really had a hand, and for a moment, it felt as if he did.

She got a peculiar look. Then she said, "I felt that."

"Sorry . . ." he said, withdrawing his claw.

Minako said, "No, what I mean . . . could you try to do that again, exactly as you did before? And watch?"

Kevin concentrated and tried again . . . and he saw the flesh of her cheek press in, just where it would if he had all of his fingers. She took his hand, and kissed it, or kissed where the fingers should be . . . and he felt it.

She had a look of wonder. "Kevin-chan, Naru-chan has always said you have magic. This is part of it . . . do you know how you did it?"

Kevin said, "I wanted to touch you just once, like I've always wanted to, before you stop pretending you love me."

"She's not pretending," said a little voice. "She loves you. You love her. So stop talking and start kissing _okasan_ so I can get some sleep. Please?"

* * *

Next in Part 4 of **Nurse Venus**, a tragic incident leads Marvell Jones to take a big step in the right direction. Kimi reveals something big about Hotaru. And the bouquet passes to Setsuna . . .

* * *

Send comments to: [sewell_thomas@hotmail.com][1])

   [1]: mailto:sewell_thomas@hotmail.com



	4. Part Four: Strange Allies

**Nurse Venus - Part 4**

A Sailor Moon fan fiction by Thomas Sewell ([sewell_thomas@hotmail.com][1])) 

...... _Thought Quotation_

**Chapter 12: The Hero**

LOUIS SPOTTS had been very famous for two weeks after being identified as the one who was spared by the Angel Girls. But he didn't talk to cops, or the few reporters he was allowed to see. He didn't talk much to his lawyers, and for awhile he attracted some very powerful help. But he wouldn't make a deal for testimony.

A lot of people were puzzled about that.

Louis Spotts' fame passed as quickly as it had come. He continued to spend his days and nights in a small cell, alone. Most people forgot about him.

* * *

Marvell Jones forgot about Spotts for quite awhile. There weren't any confirmed angel sightings in the winter or early spring, although there were some rumors from Washington state. They existed, and they'd saved Kevin, and _maybe_ they'd saved that little Filipino girl, and maybe some had been in Chicago. But they weren't messing in his business. Of course, he wasn't making things messy He'd taken out B.Q. very cleanly to make a point: It's _you_ who want this war. 

The remaining Red underboss in the north made a truce and started taking over B.Q.'s territory. But B.Q.s crew split up into the baby gangs it had formed from, and they went after everybody, Marvell's people, Ivan Grant's people, and even each other. Some of Marvell's baby gangsters retaliated on their own, and the war started again.

But compared to the war down south, it was quiet. All four of the Red underbosses went down, and then one of Marvell's allies turned on the other. Marvell pulled back his men, but there were only five left.

To fill the gaps in his top ranks, Marvell promoted out all his bodyguards except for Tombs, and hired professionals to replace them.

As summer approached, it looked like the war was over in the North. Marvell had time to think about Spotts again. Just a baby gangster, and one of B.Q.'s, but Spotts was about the only one left who might give Marvell a clue about who tipped off B.Q. about where Kevin would be.

But Marvell was beginning to wonder about his brother by this time. Kev was a different man now. Marvell hadn't seen him much since he got out of the hospital after the Lake hit. In fact, only when he visited Moms at her place, which wasn't often--Moms went to "his" place, the mansion where Kev lived with his wife and all her strange friends, a lot more often to visit. Only once had he seen Kev anywhere but Moms' since he was released from Highland Hospital. He'd actually gone to the mansion to see if Kev wanted to come over to Moms'. Kev had said "No," he was busy. Kev had been very short with Marvell.

Stove up or not, Kev was a man of his own now, and Marvell wasn't sure he liked that.

But no matter what he thought of Kev, he had to find out had who tipped off B.Q. if he could. There had been a traitor. He had to be flushed out.

But Spotts was hard to get to now . . .

* * *

John Crawford was also becoming interested in Louis Spotts again at this time. 

Crawford had had a more prosaic distraction than Marvell since the Lake incident: He ran out of money. A surprise IRS audit had led to confiscation of his accounts and assets. He fought it and had got some of his own back, but in the meantime, he had had to find a living. He'd swallowed his pride and done an authorized biography of J. Kruppenhauer, a wealthy eccentric who was planning to run for President again. Kruppenhauer stayed in Hawaii most of the time, so Crawford had been gone from his home and favorite beat.

Now he was about to go back. He would be doing a column now, nationally syndicated, but based out of San Jose. It wasn't exactly _his_ part of the Bay, but to get a column in one of the San Francisco papers, he would have to wait for someone to die. And he was going to talk to Spotts: he had already roughed out the background for the piece.

But before he went back, Crawford decided to spend a last weekend in Hawaii, free from Kruppenhauer at last. He'd planned nothing more complicated than a day on the beach at Waikiki for his last day, although it would be nice to run into some from the Southbay so he could get an easy column out of it.

He _did_ come across a resident of the Silicon Valley. In the midst of the crowded, noisy beach, he spotted a young woman sitting on a blanket, reading a thick book. Then he noticed two very well muscled companions eyeing him, and he recognized _them._ They were bodyguards, and the young woman was Dr. Mizuno. A very small child was napping next to her. Also sharing the blanket was a portable playpen with two babies in it, and they were being watched by . . .

Crawford waved, and then turned away and sat down in the sand. The guards were getting _too _interested, and he wasn't about to ambush Mrs. Sumi in the midst of a day with her family and friends. But her _friends . . . _the babies in the playpen were being watched by Kevin Jones and, in a beach chair, the paraplegic woman he remembered from his interview with Jones. And, looking out into the ocean, Crawford saw Jones' wife rising from the waves.

Glancing back, he saw the paraplegic woman throw a beach ball at Dr. Mizuno's head, and point at the ocean.

Turning toward the ocean, he saw a vast water and wet-sand fight going on where the water met the beach. Mrs. Jones was in the thick of it, and her long lovely hair was a dowsed, sandy, sea-weedy mess.

Mrs. Jones and the others with her began to troop up the beach after that, and Crawford was not between them and Dr. Mizuno's group. He decided not to approach them, either, but he watched. The ones who came closest were a strawberry blonde who was somewhere near puberty and a smaller, dark-haired girl who rode on her back--not _that_ small; a child of seven or eight. Just behind them were a dark-haired man, Mrs. Jones, and another girl of seven or eight who looked very much like the one on the back of the oldest child. Crawford had a camera and actually took a few shots before he realized might be a bad idea with the guards interested . . . but no one in the group coming from the water seemed to notice him; he was just another graying man in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts and a lot of sunscreen, a stranger among many.

Crawford continued to watch them, wondering what the relationships were. He did not have to wait long. The man he'd first noticed with the girls coming out of the water went straight to the paraplegic lady, as did the oldest child and the one she carried. The man, who picked up the paraplegic and carried her away, had to be her husband--and that was Mamoru Chiba, someone else he hadn't been able to talk to in his last stay in the Bay Area.

They and the larger group--many children, and at least one other man he recognized from the mansion--Kumada, the talker--packed up rapidly and moved up off the beach. In fact, so quickly, Crawford had an idle thought that they must have done this often enough to be practiced, even the children.

When they were gone, Crawford thought about what he'd seen for awhile, sitting in the sun, looking at what other people were up to . . . It wasn't really surprising to find Dr. Mizuno in Hawaii; her husband was wealthy, after all. It wasn't even surprising to find her at a public beach: he knew from the second he had met her, she had no upper-class pretensions. He'd seen her talk to a janitor longer than anyone else while waiting to meet her for the first time at Stanford Hospital.

But seeing her here with Chiba and with Kevin Jones showed Crawford there was a strong connection between them all. In fact, they looked like family . . .

There was one more fact he'd learned about Luther Ponds before leaving the Valley. Ponds had been a police informant. Maybe Dr. Yawada had not been wrong about Chiba . . . maybe he _was_ connected . . . _yakuza?_ Professional crime in Japan was a lot more sophisticated now; tattoos and missing fingers were something for bad movies and for old gentlemen who spoke of their exciting youths to each other while feeding ducks in the parks. Chiba claimed to be an orphan, but perhaps his family wasn't dead; merely unacceptable for a spotless professional career . . . 

Crawford also thought about his little problem with the IRS. That had smelled of harassment from the beginning, and the particular odor was of a double-cross, by the NSA. But he'd recently begun to doubt it . . . his contact had finally gotten in touch again. His contact hadn't said much, but he did say that crazy theories were not looking so crazy now. But what the contact didn't say was probably more important: he didn't suggest that Crawford stop looking into the anomalies . . .

Crawford had really just started digging into Chiba and the death of Luther Ponds when the IRS had hit him.

The only connection Louis Spotts had to all this was an association with the anomalies. But he might be associated with two of them, including the one Dr. Mizuno was involved in. _You helped the little girl in the van,_ the smaller angel with the third eye had said on the Sauvage tape.

But if that was true, why wasn't Dr. Mizuno helping? All she had to do was say that Spotts had brought Lisette Pinatabo to Stanford hospital, and Spotts would surely be pardoned. Crawford didn't believe in the tiniest portion of his heart that Mrs. Sumi would let concern for her career stop her from helping Spotts or anyone else.

Crawford left the beach. He tried to find out where Dr. Mizuno and her friends were staying, but was not successful. He flew back to California the next morning.

* * *

Crawford had expected to have a week to settle into his new position, but the morning after he arrived, he got a call. There was going to be a press conference at the Oakland City Hall, something big. Get there. Don't tell anyone about the press conference.

Feeling like he was a rookie once again, Crawford was out the door in ten minutes.

By the time Crawford arrived, he wondered exactly who he was supposed to be keeping this a secret from. There was a mob of photographers, and several satellite vans. He glimpsed Kate Warfield, one of the queens of trash TV, on the steps.

At least everyone actually allowed inside was a legitimate member of the press; about thirty were so distinguished, including himself. After what seemed like a long wait, the subject appeared at last on the lecture stage, amid her family, some obvious lawyers, and an unexpected friend: none other than Mrs. Kevin Jones. Crawford almost didn't recognize her: she'd either cut her hair short or was wearing a wig, and was wearing a suit that almost make her look like another lawyer. But she was close to the subject: Lisette Pinatubo looked to her as often as to her mother, as she uncertainly came to the lectern to make her statement.

"I am Lisette Pinatabo. I came here to see if the prisoner named Louis Spotts was one of the men who helped save me. He is. My family and I are asking that our Governor and our President pardon him because of what he did."

Every hand went up, but that was all Lisette said. She was led off the lectern and then off the stage by her parents. Crawford noticed that Mrs. Jones moved exactly so as to shield Lisette from the cameras.

Crawford stayed for the rest of the conference, which concerned plans to release Spotts on bail, possibly later in the day. So he missed out on an amusing incident at the foot of the steps, and would actually learn of it later than most people . . .

* * *

Marvell Jones liked to catch news; when he had a television on, it was usually tuned to CNN; a radio, to the all-news channel. But he wasn't watching when the news conference started, or even aware it was taking place. Tombs remarked on it when he came to Marvell's office to see if he was needed. "That Pinatabo kid was just on TV. Looks like they turnin' loose of Spotts."

* * *

Marvell switched on the set in his office. The conference was just ending, and the feed cut to the outside of City Hall, where the Pinatabo girl was trying to get through the usual mob of press. The camera zoomed in on a woman who cut through to shove a mike in the girl's face--and then someone moving along with the girl made a fast move that put the asshole woman face-into-concrete. Marvell had to laugh, especially when the shot zoomed in to show that the asshole was famous. The woman who had put the move on her was so polite in helping her up--and so clumsy, stepping on the mike and breaking it. She was a lot better looking than the witch she'd taken off that poor Filapino girl, who reminded him of Olivia, though she was still a kid. _In fact, the woman--_

Tombs voiced what Marvell was thinking. "That's your brother's wife! What's she doing there?" Tombs only talked like a movie nigger when he was relaxed enough to joke; when he was serious, he sounded like what Marvell knew he was: a man with education. Could have been a doctor or a lawyer if he hadn't been stopped for DWB (Driving While Black) and had put a white cop on disability. Smart enough to run a crew, cool when trouble came, but he'd never been a baby gangster. That was why Marvell kept him as his driver; he just didn't know the foot soldiers in the Blue army. Marvell was thinking of setting him up with a legitimate business, but Tombs was just so damn useful to have around . . .

"Yeah, what is she doing there? . . . Have to ask Kev that one. But Spotts is the one I want to talk to while we can get to him. Make sure the car is ready; might have to move out fast."

But there wasn't any other news from anywhere for three hours. Then a bulletin came in over the radio: "We have just received a report that Louis Spotts, the San Mateo teenager identified today as one of the rescuers of Lisette Pinatabo, was shot minutes ago outside the Oakland City Jail . . ."

* * *

Crawford made sure he was in the room when the Chief of Surgery made the announcement.

"Louis Eugene Spotts, aged 17, was pronounced dead at 6:19 PM. He died during surgery. Resuscitation was attempted for a period of 47 minutes. Mr. Spotts was unconscious on arrival and did not regain consciousness."

* * *

Marvell Jones was surprised to see Olivia come into the office. She knew better. But she'd been crying a lot, and she still was a little. "That boy, that helped Lisette. Why did he have to die?"

Marvell got up from his chair and went to her. She backed away as he neared. Then he was sure. And he broke one of his own rules. "I _didn't_ do it. And if I find one of my men had it done . . . well, he'll be very sorry, I guarantee."

"How can I be sure?" asked Olivia.

"If I had wanted him dead, would he have lived this long?"

She stood very still, then allowed him to close and take her into his arms. Holding her, kissing her on her hair like a child, she was so tiny, he thought of how much it would hurt if he had to make her go away. Then he made a decision.

"Tombs," said Marvell.

"Yeah?"

"See if there's room on the Las Vegas shuttle. Buy all the empty seats. If there ain't any, call Otis and charter a plane for at least four; big as they have that can fly tonight."

"Right."

"What are you doing?" asked Olivia.

He decided to do it as right as he knew. He let her go, except for one hand, backed up a bit, and got down on one knee. "Olivia, will you marry me?"

"Now?"

"Yes, tonight." He reached up with his free hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "The only business I want to do now is make you happy again."

She started crying again, but she kissed him. Something good was going to come out of this dark day.

* * *

Moms would come, of course, and Olivia's mother, an even tinier lady Marvell had brought over to keep Olivia company during his long absences. He had to invite Kevin, of course--and was surprised as hell when Kevin accepted. So he swung by the mansion after picking up Moms. Moms wanted to go in, and so did Olivia and her mother--and she insisted that Tombs come, too; she really liked Tombs, and Marvell suspected she was sweet on him. So Marvell just left a couple of his security-service bodyguards with the car.

It was the first time Olivia and her mother had been inside the mansion, so Marvell was surprised when he caught up with them inside to find them conversing rapidly--in Filipino. He immediately recognized Lisette Pinatubo--who wasn't talking much. He did see her give Olivia a hug, though. Then she came with Olivia back to him--along with Mrs. Chiba, wheeling herself along, looking through him with those old eyes of hers.

"This is a surprise," he said, extending his hand.

Lisette did not take it. She was also staring at him.

Mrs. Chiba did take his hand. "I congratulate you. I hope you will find the same happiness I have found with my husband." After that, Lisette did accept his hand.

* * *

The shuttle was full, and Otis Charter wouldn't have a plane available for two hours, so there was no reason for Marvell Jones to leave for awhile, particularly while his mother wanted to commiserate with the Pinatabo family. So did Olivia and her mother Octavia, which left FBI Agent Martin Tiggs free for some blessed moments. He extended a bathroom visit into some exploration of the home. Noting some children using a back stair, he followed it and found a cramped half-floor with an entertainment center--really a little theater, and amazingly well-done.

When he came back down the stairs, he found the lady in the wheelchair waiting. "You are a curious man, Mr. Tombs."

"I guess," said Tiggs. "I would never have guessed you had that little theater there."

"Dr. Han's parents designed it for Dr. Alvarson, the owner. My father works for him; that is how I came to live here. When we first came here, it was all tiny rooms. They were for the colored servants. Hidden away."

Tiggs said, "If you say . . ." The woman had a strange presence about her. "I'd better be getting back to my boss."

"Have some coffee first, Mr. Tombs," said the wheelchair lady.

"Coffee?" said Tiggs.

"Yes. We have Blue Mountain, you know. Extract. Make a cup for yourself and a cup for your boss. You are going to be up late."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome . . . be careful, Mr. Tombs. Your boss hasn't noticed you have been gone so long, but he will remember later."

She wheeled away, leaving Martin Tiggs with the feeling that she knew a lot more that what she was saying . . .

* * *

Makoto gave Olivia a bouquet of blue roses and made her promise to come back with it and throw it at a reception she was organizing with Octavia's and Jackie's help. Mamoru watched Olivia take it, and get into the car. It was just big enough for everyone, including Minako, Kevin, and Ishtar, who absolutely insisted--something the accommodating child did not do often at all. And her sisters had also insisted--all too common for Chibi-Usa! Martin Tiggs closed the door for Olivia, then got in the car and drove it off.

As it disappeared into the dark, and as another car that had been parked on the street since a little after it had arrived took off to follow it, Mamoru asked Usagi, "The driver, you are sure?"

"Yes. He is a policeman."

Mamoru said, "Do you want to warn him?"

"The policeman?" asked Usagi.

"You can read my thoughts like anyone else's," chided Mamoru.

"I would rather talk," said Usagi. "Part of me wants to help him. He did not have the boy killed; he wanted to talk to him, to see if he could find out who told his enemies Kevin would be at the lake . . . He is doing a good thing. He truly loves the girl Olivia. She has begun to open his heart more . . . he thought he might have to have her killed to keep his secrets, but he cannot bear to think it. He wants to make babies with her, like his brother has made with Mina-chan."

She put her head in her hands. "But he killed a baby. I saw it in his heart the first time he came here. He did not have to do it to kill the traitor he was after, but he had the baby killed and its mother. To scare the other people thinking about becoming traitors, but also because the mother was white. And there is more evil, deep in his heart. I cannot see as much as I have before, but it is there . . . "

"Usako, are you sick?"

"No . . . But I think of the boy who helped Lisette. He kept silent to help us. I think he must have known Mina-chan was a _senshi . . . _so brave, and he will never find a girl and marry and make babies with her . . . "

"Could we bring him back?" asked Mamoru.

Usagi said, "No. Naru-chan was able to work a spell. He is beyond even the Grey Lady's art . . . we should have sent one of us to protect him."

Mamor said, "We did not know . . . we can't think of everything. There were police all around."

"Yes . . . there were . . . " She finally looked up. "Let's go to bed. I have had enough of this day."

* * *

John Garfield Crawford finished typing up his column. He had reluctantly learned to use word processors when typewriters began to die out, but he liked to use one, once in awhile. He tapped out the final copy on the first portable he'd bought with his first paycheck. It was a mark of respect.

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Rose Love Chapel**

THE BEST OTIS CHARTER could come up with was a ten-place plane. There wasn't enough room for any guards, or even for Tombs, if Marvell Jones took all his guests. He decided to take the risk. It was important to Moms. And he felt good about it . . . someday he would go away, but not today.

It was a long flight. Marvell wanted to stay up; he was a little nervous about flying, and he had embarrassed himself by having nightmares on airplanes before. Olivia fell asleep almost right away. Moms and Olivia's mother were down soon after that. Minako's girl and her "sisters" stayed up, using booklights to read. Kev fell off, but Minako stayed awake until both of Mrs. Chiba's daughter's were asleep. She finally nodded off. But Minako's kid was still reading when Marvell fell asleep.

* * *

The sun was up at seven thousand feet, and it roused the sleeping passengers. Pilot Lavonne Otis Jr. said loudly, "Rise and shine. Pull your seatbelts tight. We are beginning our descent into Las Vegas Nevada. We should be landing in about five minutes."

Marvell noticed that one passenger was still asleep: Minako's daughter.

They took cabs to the Rose Love Chapel, the place Olivia insisted on when she had found out Kevin and Minako had been married there, and Mr. and Mrs. Chiba, and Mrs. Urawa, who'd given her the bouquet of blue roses. _Blue_ roses. What else for Marvell's bride? He would try to make the reception, mostly because he wanted to see Olivia throw that bouquet.

They had to wait for quite a while once they arrived. There was no one authorized to do ceremonies. "What happened to Mrs. Hardaway?" Marvell heard Mrs. Chiba's oldest girl asked.

"She passed away a couple of months ago, dear," answered the girl running the little office.

"Oh . . . that is sad," said the Chiba girl.

"Yes, but Grandma had a long life . . . She was right here. I was busy for a few minutes, I came back, and she was gone . . . You wouldn't believe how many people came to the funeral, and _who! _Grandma had a heck of a life, I guess . . . lots she never told us, I think!"

Olivia had been looking at the pictures everywhere on the walls, couples and wedding parties. She called out, "Look."

Marvell came over, and saw Olivia was holding a picture of Kevin and Minako, the colors quite washed out. They were in a group . . . Mrs. Chiba in her wheelchair; her two girls and Minako's girl, some others . . . one was the lady who had given Olivia the blue rose bouquet. The others, he wasn't sure of.

"You want that?" asked the girl in the office.

"You'd sell it?" asked Marvell.

"Actually, I was about to throw those away. They are fading out. We've got a much better photo printer now, but those old ones are too bad to keep up . . . Ten dollars for the frame, each one, but you can have any of the ones in that pile for free if you don't take a frame with it."

Olivia sat down and began going through the rest of the discarded pictures. She showed each one to Marvell. He wasn't that interested, of course, but Olivia was excited. This was her day, and Marvell wasn't going to take anything away from it if he could help. So he sat next to her, and took the pictures from her as she looked through them.

And then he saw a faded, faded one. Olivia said, "Oh, that is so old . . . that is Mrs. Chiba, isnt it?"

It was. And Mrs Chiba was surrounded by young women in costumes, some with wings . . . including a little girl with black wings and little skulls in her hair. She looked smaller than the one in Sauvage's video taken at the lake, but this was an old picture. And she was sitting in Mrs. Chiba's lap. Mr. Chiba was behind her; Mrs. Urawa was on her left, and Minako was on her right . . . with wings.

Marvell had always wondered exactly how Minako had gotten out of the lake. Now he knew.

Minako _was_ the angel girl who'd pulled Kevin from the lake.

Suddenly he noticed that Mrs. Chiba's older girl--_Sarah,_ though they had seemed to call her other things most of the time--had come up. She sat down on his other side from Olivia and pointed to the girl with the black wings. "That's me. We were in these costumes when _okasan_ finally let Mamo-chan marry her. We all came here right away. I guess we look really funny." Sarah did not speak louder than normal, but Marvell noticed that everyone else in the room quieted, and turned to her.

She took the pictures from Olivia, and thumbed through them. "This is Auntie Mako and Uncle Ryo getting married. We got dressed up the same way for that wedding, too. Auntie Minako caught the bouquet, and she was the next to get married. But we didn't dress up the same for that one."

"Who caught Minako's bouquet?" asked Olivia.

"Hotaru, here." She pointed out a skinny waif of uncertain age. "My Grandma and Grandpa were not very happy about that. Hotaru is Uncle Shingo's girlfriend. They are both still in high school. I don't think they want them to be married for many years."

"Well, I guess the bouquet doesn't always work," Marvell said, trying to get off the subject of the pictures before Olivia or her mother or Moms made the same connection he had . . . _did Moms know?_

"I guess . . . " Sarah said, trailing off as if she was thinking of something else now.

"Hotaru should get married pretty soon," said one of the other little girls--Kimberly, or Kimi as they seemed to call her. He'd found it hard to tell her from Minako's daughter at first--Chiba had fathered them both, and they were only a couple of months different in age.

"Why do you say that, child?" asked Moms.

"Because . . . I think it is a good idea," said Kimi.

Then someone who had authority to perform marriages came back, and Olivia forgot about old pictures of other people's weddings. Marvell made sure he got the three pictures Minako was in, though, before they left the Rose Love Chapel.

* * *

Minako was helping Chibi-Usa clean up from an unexpected "visitor." "Oh, Chibi-Usa! Why did you not tell us?"

Chibi-Usa said, "I didn't want to tell _okasan_. She worries whenever there is a change in me."

"She will read your thoughts," said Minako.

Chibi-Usa said, "I can tell when she is doing it, usually. I can fool her for awhile. I did last month, after all."

"But not forever," said Minako.

"No . . . Auntie Minako, I don't want her to worry so much."

Minako said, "I know . . . How much do you remember from before?"

Chibi-Usa said, "Just that I was still in Crystal Tokyo when it first happened, and how _okasan_ the Queen looked . . . I remember very little about Crystal Tokyo . . . But I remember about my realfather. I remember things about Jimi-chan that Auntie Nancy or mama have never told. And the first Kimi, Zoë's mother. And my friends Gunderpal and Bonnie and Rowena . . . and I remember the thing we fought. I don't just dream, I remember."

Minako hugged Chibi-Usa. "Do you have any other secrets you are keeping from us?"

Chibi-Usa said, "Well . . . I know why Kimi said it was a good idea for Hotaru to get married soon."

"Why?" asked Minako.

"Kimi can see a baby starting to grow in Hotaru. Hotaru does not know yet." She got a devilish look on her face. "I think we should tell Shingo first, and make him tell Hotaru."

Minako laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the implications. "No, I think we will get everyone together and have Kimi-chan tell . . . Well, that is as good as we can do, I think." She took the pants to the air dryer and began using it to dry off the wetted parts. It was going to take a long while. "Are you sure your power isn't working on Kevin's brother?"

Chibi-Usa said, "Yes. He has some magic, like Uncle Kevin. His helps him against my powers, I think. He is also very smart, and has been thinking about the _senshi _for a long time. It is much harder for me to change an idea which a person has had for a long time, even with no magic working against me . . . I do not like touching his mind. _Okasan_ warned me that I shouldn't do it much. I think he must have many terrible secrets that mama can sense . . . but he loves Uncle Kevin, and he loves the babies, and he sort of thinks you count as part of his family now."

Minako frowned. "This will take a very long time to dry. Maybe you should go home to get another pair."

Chibi-Usa said, " I don't have any at home."

Minako said, "What do you mean? You must have twenty pairs of jeans now."

"Not like _this_. See?" Chibi-Usa pointed to a seam that looked like any other seam to Minako. "Olivia would know right away. She has made hundreds of pairs of jeans in sweatshops. Her mother has made thousands. They would know right away. I don't think I can make them not notice _this . . . _Mama is right about you, Auntie, sometimes you lose your brains!"

Minako was tempted to pull Chibi-Usa's hair for a moment, but then she remembered she was with _little_ Usagi, not her mother as she had been when they were young together . . . sometimes it was very hard to tell.

At least it made her forget about how much trouble would surely come now that Marvell knew.

* * *

Marvell followed Kevin into a men's room at the Las Vegas airport's passenger terminal. It was the very first chance he had to catch Kevin alone, and it paid off--there was no one else inside. He found the door had a bolt, and he turned it.

"Want some help?" he asked.

"No, I can manage," replied Kev. Marvell could see he was in pain, but he seemed much steadier now than a few months before . . . in fact, more than before the lake. "What's on your mind, bro?"

"How long did you know?" asked Marvell.

"Know about what?" said Kevin.

"How long did you know Minako was an angel?"

"Minako?"

Marvell said, "Yes. Don't fool with me, Kev. How much does she _know?_"

Kevin said, "I don't know exactly. I don't ask. She don't ask . . . About as much as Moms, I'd say. How long have I known? Not until after the lake . . . not until after I was up on my feet again."

Marvell said, "But that was still a long time back. And you didn't tell me."

Kevin said, "It ain't your _business_. Not unless _make_ it your business, and you _don't want to, _Marvell."

Marvell snapped, "Don't you talk to me like that!"

"What are you gonna do, Marvell? Kill me? Kill Minako? Kill Moms?" Kevin finished his business, and started to wash up.

Marvell turned suddenly, unlocked the door, and walked out. He realized a few steps out the door he was checking for his gun--but he'd dumped it. He wasn't going to fly back with Otis and Tarry today; they would be too tired to trust, and besides, it was a better idea to leave a different way. But he had no way to keep his gun on a commercial flight. 

Marvell stopped, and willed himself to cool down. He was mad at Kevin, but he wasn't in any more trouble than he'd been all along. Minako could have burned him long ago. He was safe, for now. There was some kind of truce here.

Marvell Jones actually smiled at an errant thought. He'd wished he'd brought at least one of his private security guards; they all had legal gun permits. But, of course, Minako would be better than all his guards put together.

He noticed a young man looking at him, black, with some attitude. Staring at him, really. He made himself cold again, then walked up to the arrogant stranger, and said, "What are you looking at?" in his iciest tone.

It worked. Marvell could see fear in the punk's eyes even behind his shades. He actually backed off a few steps, and then turned around, walking quickly away, glancing over his shoulder again and again until Marvell lost him in the crowd.

* * *

There was a tapping at the door.

"Occupied! We're not finished!" shouted Chibi-Usa.

"We need in," came Ishi-chan's voice through the door.

Minako put the half-dried pants down while Chibi-Usa retreated to the stall so no one outside would see her. Minako opened the door just long enough to let Ishi and Kimi in, and then shut and locked it again.

"Kimi!," exclaimed Chibi-Usa. "Don't use your eye on me like that now!"

"I'm not, I'm looking for more men," said Kimi.

"More men?" asked Minako.

Ishtar said, "Kimi-chan saw a man with a gun. Uncle Marvell scared him away, but he is not so scared now. I think I feel others with feelings like his. Kimi, do you see more?"

Kimi said, "Yes, two talking with the first man, and two more there. They are looking at Uncle Marvell a lot."

Chibi Usa said, "They must be here to kill Uncle Marvell. We can't let them do that."

"No." Minako said. "Kimi-chan, I need to see with your eye."

Kimi transformed all the way and flew up to touch Minako's head. Minako hoped to find a way out . . . but with Kimi she saw there were two more coming down the corridor she hoped to use. Like the others, they had small machine guns; they were liable to hit many more people besides Marvell.

Minako transformed, because she needed to be the General now. "Chibi-Usa, go out and take Marvell away. Take him to the house and come right back in here. Right back! I am counting on you!"

"Yes, Auntie." For once, she sounded like she would obey. She transformed, and walked out with her wings demurely folded.

Minako watched through Kimi's third eye, trying to keep track of all three groups and Chibi Moon. But then Chibi Moon was gone, and Marvell. Just when Minako was sure of this, she heard Chibi Moon behind her again. "Are we going to have to fight the men?"

Minako said, "I hope not . . . they've all stopped; they are all talking."

"They feel scared, I think," said Ishtar. "I'm trying to make them feel more scared."

Minako said, "Please, stop, Ishi-chan, they might start fighting if they get too scared."

"Yes, _okasan_."

After another minute, Minako said, "They are using phones . . . I think they may be leaving now."

But then Minako discovered a new problem. She had forgotten to lock the door after Chibi Moon had gone out to get Marvell. A strange lady opened the door, found herself looking at a roomful of angels, including one with three eyes, and passed out. _That_ attracted the security guards at the airport, and Chibi-Usa was still struggling into her damp, stained jeans when one of them barged in. Instead of vaporizing him, Chibi-Usa screamed, "Get out! I will sue!"

She was really more of an American girl in this incarnation.

* * *

Marvell Jones had started to recognize the prickly feeling underneath all his other cares for what it really was: Danger. Then he suddenly wasn't in the terminal in Las Vegas. A voice behind him said, "Just wait here, please?" But when he turned around, no one was there.

He was in a fair-sized room now . . . a bedroom. There were dolls and stuffed animals around, posters on walls, clothes scattered around . . . it was a bedroom for girls.

There were two windows; he went up to one and looked outside. Men in work clothes were bringing in tables and chairs to put under a canopy. An older one with a clipboard was one corner of a triangular argument with a tall, brown-haired woman and a shorter one with vivid-green hair. The women were doing most of the talking, almost yelling, and it wasn't in English. It became a four-cornered argument when a woman in a wheelchair came up.

Marvell left the window before he could be noticed--another old habit, though in truth he had no immediate expectation of dodging gunfire, as he had moments before . . . if he hadn't passed out or something. He checked his watch; it was the same day, not much later than the last time he had glanced at it, just before following Kevin into the Men's Room.

Any doubt to where he was went away when he left the room. He was above that huge front room of the mansion where Kevin lived with his wife.

He still had his cellphone. He opened it and was about to call for Tombs when he had a cold thought. The man-boy he'd scared off could have been a shooter. That's what his feeling had to be about; he'd had it often enough. And that meant that someone had told that he was going to be in Las Vegas.

He went back into the room, then to the same window, and looked down. The lady in the wheelchair down below had sent her children with him. She didn't like him, but she wouldn't have set him up, and she wouldn't have told anybody she thought mattered, not when it would have put her little girls in danger.

Now the woman was talking in her own cellphone. She held up her free hand, and the other three stopped talking. She made some motions with her hand; the tall woman grabbed the wheelchair and began pushing her inside, while the green-haired woman exchanged quick words with the man holding the clipboard. He turned to back to his workers, and they all stopped what they were doing, and began to leave.

The tall lady noticed him, stopping. He opened the window, leaned out, and waved.

* * *

**Chapter 14: Angel Nine**

"WHAT DOES _OKASAN_ SAY?" asked Chibi-Usa. She switched to Japanese, and added, "Should I start taking other people back?"

Before Minako could answer, Kimi, putting her hands on her head as if she had a headache so she could use her third eye for a little bit, said, "The men are coming back. There are more of them."

Minako said, "There isn't time to get everyone out. Go, all of you."

"Auntie, I should stay to help if there is a fight," said Chibi-Usa.

Minako said, "No, go with the others. I will follow when I'm sure you are safe on the plane."

"Auntie--" Chibi-Usa started to say.

Minako snapped, "This is an order! Ishi, Kimi, go with Chibi-Usa and the others!"

Usagi was screaming from the phone.

* * *

"What's going on here?" Marvell asked the woman in the wheelchair as soon as he reached the foot of the stairs.

"Boys with guns are at the airport in Las Vegas. Mina-chan is watching them while everyone else gets on the airplane. So far there is no fight . . . Mina-chan has hung up. She is going through security now. She says they told her not to use the phone now." She folded up her phone. "Do you think they will try to shoot up the plane, Mr. Jones?"

"Mind telling me how I got here?" asked Marvell.

The green-haired woman came in, speaking rapid Japanese. Mrs. Chiba replied with some short, explosive words in the same language. Both the green-haired woman and the tall one who had come in with Mrs. Chiba--she was the one who had given Olivia her bouquet of blue roses--quickly left. Mrs. Chiba called more phrases to then in Japanese until they were out of sight. Then she put her face in her hands and trembled.

Marvell wanted to ask many questions, but none of them seemed right at this moment.

Mrs. Chiba stopped trembling, and brought her face up again. It was wet with tears, but she was no longer crying. "Forgive my discourtesy . . . My daughter brought you. Mina-chan told her to bring you here, since you are who the killers are after."

"What did you tell them?" Marvell asked.

Mrs Chiba replied, "I told them to go do things which should bring everyone back here safely, if the gods allow and the boys at the airport don't do something to blow up the plane."

"Excuse me, but if you brought me here, why don't you just bring the others?" asked Marvell.

Mrs. Chiba said, "My daughter cannot bring everyone at once, and I do not think she can get back onto the plane once she brings someone." She looked at her watch, and opened her phone again. "Mr. Jones, give me the number to Mr. Tombs' cellphone."

"What?"

"That will do." She began punching in numbers. "Keep quiet, please. I am about to do you a favor . . . Mr. Tombs? This is Mrs. Chiba, Kevin's friend . . . Yes . . . Your boss spoke with me a few moments ago. He's changed his mind about returning . . . well, I won't say, but I have the information you need. Please come over to my house. I will give you your new instructions. Just yourself. Oh, bring something that can hold quite a lot of luggage, you'll be picking up some things here and from his mother's place. Please, hurry, there's a special arrangement he made . . . No, I don't think so . . . Oh, be sure to use the front entrance; we have men doing work in back . . . Thank you."

"Who are you calling next? The police?" said Marvell sardonically.

Mrs. Chiba said, "No. Police in Las Vegas wouldn't arrive in time. Airport security would probably get in a fight and a lot of people could be hurt or killed. The same thing goes for when the plane lands here . . . and besides, the police didn't do a very good job protecting Mr. Spotts yesterday, did they?"

"Yeah . . . I noticed that, too," said Marvell. 

* * *

Minako Jones, _nee _Aino, was, most of the time, a nurse, a wife, and a mother. But she also had at least part of the soul of the Moon Kingdom's last general, which might explain why she _absorbed _so many of the lethal arts. Some of the warlike facts she had acquired, so alien to her present compassionate and sometimes childlike nature, were the ranges of missiles small enough to be carried by one man. When she was sure their plane was out of range of any of those, she sent a silent signal back to Usagi. She went to the restrooms to call in a report as soon as the passengers were allowed out of their seats.

* * *

"Can it be done?" asked Usagi.

"I am not sure," said Cooan. "I am the only one of us who has ever done this. I failed the last time I tried . . . I won't be able to do it more than once, and I doubt I will be able to recover in time to jump out again."

Karaberas stopped a fight between her boy and Cooan's twins with a wicked glance. Then she said, "There is another way . . . make the plane land somewhere else."

"Oh, let's get ourselves in even _more_ trouble!" said Beruche.

"Hijacking a plane," said Petz. "What a _brilliant _idea . . . maybe if we try to link with you, like with the _senshi_, you could guide us in?"

"I don't think there would be room," said Setsuna. "Cooan has the best idea. Can you get _me _onto the plane? Into the cockpit?"

Everyone else was open-mouthed at this suggestion--except Usagi. "Yes, maybe. You will need me, too, to take care of the pilot and co-pilot safely. I must take care of some business upstairs before we leave. Setsuna, Cooan, go to my van as soon as you are ready. Michiru, you are in charge of the rest. What Mina-chan is most worried about is a small missile which could be fired from the ground near the airport. The gangsters may have one or two. Or they may use mortars or regular rockets like they did in the war I started, but those would be harder to get to the right place quickly. If we fail, sent everyone who can fight to the airport. And call a TV station. If everyone there knows that sailor fighters are there, the killers may chicken out, or maybe the controllers will keep planes from landing there."

Shooting forward with her chair, Usagi shouted, "Mako, come with me!"

* * *

Martin Tiggs had been buzzed through the gates, and then through the front door, to find an apparently empty house--but of course, there were people somewhere, at least Mrs. Chiba, who'd let him in--who'd called him here.

He'd noted the cameras the night before, hardly unusual for a Kensington mansion. But last night he had been in a crowd; now he was alone. If someone was watching, they were watching him.

_Act like who you're supposed to be._ "Mrs. Chiba?" he called. 

No answer.

He heard the elevator moving--very quietly; he doubted he would have noticed if the house had not been otherwise dead silent. He went to where he knew it stopped on the ground floor, a spot hidden by one of the staircases. It was a dual-opening model; when the doors opened, he could see through to the kitchen--where he saw Marvell Jones drinking coffee, watching a small portable television. Marvell turned to him, extending his cup in an offer. He followed Mrs. Chiba and a tall woman he remembered from the night before through the elevator into the kitchen.

Tiggs said, "This is a surprise. I thought you was gettin' married."

The sound from the little television became loud static, and Marvell switched it off. "I did. I just came back ahead of the others, Tombs." Marvell glanced at Mrs. Chiba for a second.

Mrs. Chiba spoke before Martin Tiggs could. "Who did you tell about Mr. Jones' wedding plans, Mr. Tombs?"

Tiggs was caught off-guard. "What? What are you talking about?"

Mrs. Chiba fired off more questions. "What I mean is, how did you make your report? When? Do you know who it would go to?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Tiggs.

Mrs. Chiba said, "You know that. By the way, are you recording or transmitting now? Recording. Both. That is impressive. But Mako-chan is jamming you now, Agent Tiggs. Mako, it is in his phone."

Tiggs was very fast--he managed to dodge the tall woman and draw his gun.

Mrs. Chiba barked something in Japanese, and the tall woman stopped--but now she was a very grim looking angel, with electricity literally arcing between her hands.

"Are you going to shoot someone, Agent Tiggs?" asked Mrs. Chiba.

"Not if you are all smart." He was already covering the one who mattered, Marvell Jones. "And _you smart_, Marvell," he added, in his best Hollywood black gangster.

"Ain't packing, Tombs. Mind if I call my lawyer now?" said Marvell casually.

"Yes, I do. Put your hands on the table. You, sit down," he said to the angel, absolutely blanking out the incongruity she represented. He reached for the phone clipped to his belt to hit the panic switch--and it crumbled away.

Mrs. Chiba said something else in Japanese. The angel came toward him. He fired--or tried to. But squeezing the butt of his pistol did not fire a smoothly aimed round; it crunched it up like a sugar cone, letting metal filings and propellant stream down through his hand.

Mrs. Chiba spoke in Japanese a final time, and the angel was an ordinary woman again. Then she said in English, "Agent Tiggs seems to be having a lot of mental stress. Hallucinations. But he doesn't know anything about the killers."

"You do seem upset," said the tall woman. She pushed him firmly but gently into the chair opposite Marvell Jones. In another moment, she set a cup before him. "Drink this. You'll feel better."

Tiggs made no move to drink it. "I don't know what's going on here."

Mrs. Chiba spoke. "Drink, Agent Tiggs. If I had wanted, you would be dust like your gun and your phone. The drug in the tea will do no permanent harm. And if you don't drink it, there are other less pleasant ways to give you your dose."

Tiggs noticed that the tall woman was setting out a plate of small cakes. She said, "It takes a few minutes to take effect. You should eat something. It can upset your stomach if you don't."

"What is it?" asked Tiggs.

"We just call it 'the powder.' It is a special product," said Mrs. Chiba. 

"It takes away memories," the tall woman explained. "Recent memories. My husband uses it sometimes; he has some very troubling dreams."

"_Drink it_," asserted Mrs. Chiba, and before he realized he had, Martin Tiggs had drained the cup. The tall woman replaced it with another cup, filled with fragrant chocolate, heavily creamed, with a little liquer as well. He drank some of it, wondering what was going to happen next.

"I am sorry, Tiggs-san," said Mrs. Chiba, "I thought you might have told one of Jones-san's enemies."

"The Bureau doesn't work like that," said Tiggs. He picked up one of the cakes. 

"You FBI, Tombs?" asked Marvell.

"Yes," said Tiggs. "The name is 'Tiggs,' Mr. Jones. Martin Tiggs, if you're curious. You know, my backup is going to be here any minute, now that I've stopped transmitting."

"No, they will probably not come," said Mrs. Chiba, apparently addressing Marvell. "He hopes someone will notice soon, but he is not monitored all the time."

Tiggs looked at the tall women who had been an angel. "You've been working for Mr. Jones all along? Is that why Kev was saved?"

"No, we don't work for Mr. Jones," answered the woman in the wheelchair. _Who was she?_

Martin Tiggs ate most of his cake before the drug took full effect and he faded out.

* * *

"Well. What do I do with him now?" asked Marvell Jones.

"We will take care of him," answered Usagi. "We have things to hide from the government, too."

Makoto picked Tiggs up and carried him into the elevator. Usagi said, "Go with Michiru's group," in Japanese as the doors closed, and began to wheel out.

"Where are you going?" asked Marvell.

"To catch the plane, Mr. Jones. You can come if you like, but you'll be safest if you stay here."

He got up. "No, I want to see this."

* * *

The flight from Las Vegas to Oakland was short on a 737. As they made their last wide turn to get into the landing pattern, Minako hoped the positives would outweigh the negatives from this fact. There would be less time for an enemy to prepare, but there would also be less time for the other _senshi _prepare. She held Kimi in her lap, with an airline blanket wrapped around her, concealing her third eye, through which Minako was looking for trouble.

"Ma'am, you _must _put your child in her own seat," said a flight attendent. Minako had not seen her; her vision was focused miles ahead of the aircraft. But suddenly she could, because the flight attendent had lifted Kimi out of her lap and broken contact--and also inadvertently pulled the blanket from Kimi's head.

Finding herself staring into Kimi's third eye from inches away, the woman screamed at the top of her lungs, and kept on screaming.

That is why Minako did not hear Kimi's screaming, because she had just seen something.

* * *

Marvell Jones hadn't seen any wonders for awhile, and, like most, he was beginning to wonder if what he seemed to remember was real. He also had a solid suspicion that this might be some charade; there wasn't any proof of assassins apart from the word of Mrs. Chiba and her friends. The only thing he was sure they'd told him was true was that Tombs was wrong; he'd put the gun on Marvell too quickly not to have thought of the move for a long, long time.

Mrs. Chiba had just pulled to the side of the road, the frontage road north of the Bay Bridge. There were already tie-ups ahead; they weren't going to get to a better place for whatever it was they were going to do.

"Is that it?" asked Marvell, pointing to an aircraft.

"Yes," answered the green-haired woman--not the one he had first seen arguing, but an older, taller woman, with hair in a darker shade, and much longer. She had a soft voice, a jarring contrast to the nasal, catty voice of the other woman who had come.

Mrs. Chiba barked an order in Japanese, and the two women lifted her out of the van and held her between them in her arms.

"What's _that?_" he exclaimed.

Three smoke trails were snaking up ahead, moving toward the aircraft.

* * *

Usagi saw the smoke trails, and transformed without thinking about the pain. She put all her concentration in a wide attack, hoping to disable the missiles. But they were even further away than the missiles she had once seen launched against Chibi Moon . . . moments before her daughter had died.

One of the smoke trails passed the plane. One stopped. One ended in a small flash.

Directly in front of the plane.

"Jump! Jump now!" Sailor Moon shouted.

* * *

An unfamiliar woman's voice came over the radio in the flight control center.

"This is the damaged 737. Flight crew is dead. Flaps are jammed in position, no ailerons, wing damage. Landing gear is inoperable. All electronic instrumentation has failed. I am attempting an immediate emergency landing. There is no other option."

"Identify yourself."

"Call me Angel Nine."

* * *

Angel Nine, whoever she was, kept the plane under control until touched down. From then on, it was a matter of friction, and fortune. A more lightly-built aircraft would have broken up, but a 737, or at least this one, held more or less together down the length of the runway--and for a distance beyond it. Even then, the fuselage did not break in two; it cracked, just aft of the wing roots, with the nose digging into the mud, and the tail section sagging down to drag a ways until the dying aircraft finally came to rest.

Unfortunately, it was _not_ where the emergency equipment could reach it.

* * *

Michiru made her decision instantly. She sent everyone she had to help people get out of the plane.

* * *

Marvell was an observant man, and he had had little trouble adapting to the hand controls on Usagi's van. He was already back on the freeway when Angel Nine finished the flight. 

He knew who must be trying to kill him: Laurence Van Huff, the new red boss he had given so much to in order to stop the war. Huff was supposed to have turned over _all_ the war toys B.Q. had been so fond of.

Now Huff was betting everything. Marvell was sure he had Huff figured. Huff had been given a golden chance to eliminate the only one really dangerous to him. It hadn't worked; now he _had_ to get Marvell just to stay alive. Only thanks to Kevin's new friends, Huff was going after the wrong target. All Marvel had to do was get off at University, drive a few blocks, and he could hook up with a trustworthy crew. Huff would be lucky to live until tomorrow.

But by then Moms would be dead, and Kevin, and Olivia . . . maybe even Minako. She'd taken wounds at the lake. Huff would send everything he had left against that plane, and try to kill everyone who possibly might be Marvell. Kev first, if anyone was bothering to pick shots.

It was stop-and-go, because people had slowed or stopped to watch the airliner, streaming fuel from the dump valves and the damaged wing. The airliner was gone; there was no column of smoke ahead, so Marvell guessed it had landed safely, or at least hadn't burned up.

Marvell stopped the van and set it in park. He couldn't operate a cellphone and the hand controls at the same time.

"Hey, Huffy. This is Marvell. Just called to tell you, I was never on that plane. Call off your dogs _now _and you got a truce. Ain't none of my crew on that plane; just family. You go on after my _family,_ Huffy, this war don't stop with _you_."

It was probably too late, but Marvell intended to honor his offer.

* * *

Chibi Moon and Cooan's three sisters were the most useful in getting people out, but Sailor Venus began flying out with whomever seemed to be the in the most need in her reach. Kimi and Ishi took whatever children they were offered or could take. But the whole operation was interrupted by an explosion quite a way off, followed by a closer one.

"Mortar!" shouted Venus. "Mercury, can you plot the trajectory?"

"Got it, I think . . . here comes another!"

"Kimi!"

Kimi Moon did not get to Venus and Mercury fast enough to stop the round, but fortunately it was long this time, and the explosion was modest--it buried itself in mud before exploding. Venus was able to stop the next round. The mortar itself was out of her range--but she could paint it with a bright light, and Chibi Moon fired at that. A second later, the mortar and its crew were gone in the after-image of a violet fireball.

There weren't any more interruptions.

* * *

The last off the plane was Setsuna. She was about to get onto a slide when she noticed something dropped on the floor. She picked it up. It was smushed, but recognizable for what it was: a bouquet of roses, blue ones, made up the way only Makoto used. Setsuna wondered idly who had caught this one. She kept it in her hand as she slid off, and kept it as she walked out through the mud, until Chibi came to pop her back to home, a shower, and a long soak. Before cleaning up, though, Setsuna set the pathetic bouquet in water, wondering idly whether it would survive like its progenitor, Usagi's.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Decisions**

MICHIRU had had to handle all the big decisions after getting the people off the plane. Usagi was literally out; the pain of the transformation and the strain of her desperate efforts had drained her utterly, and even Mamoru could not rouse her for more than a few minutes. Minako went to Highland Hospital to help Mamoru and Gin-chan; acting as their nurse, they could use their special powers more easily to fix up people. There was a chance to save the pilot after all, but, even after sneaking Hotaru in, she was not saved.

Minako was not good for much when she returned. Michiru would have liked to have comforted her, but that was not something she was good at, and she had many other things on her mind. Even Nereid, Michiru's daughter, was more likely to go to Haruka or Makoto or Minako with her bruised knees and bruised feelings than to her mother.

There were a lot of decisions to make. 

_Use the forgetting powder on Kevin's mother, and Marvell's new wife and mother-in-law?_ Michiru's instinct was to use it. But of course the more sentimental _senshi_ would protest that it was wrong to destroy the memory of the wedding. Michiru had little use for sentiment. But she _might_ be doing wrong if she used the powder. Michiru had just enough doubt to keep herself from insisting.

_Let Haruka return to France?_ Uranus had been harder to get onto the scene than even Sailor Mercury. She had to go back for Titania, of course, but let her stay?

_Let Haruka go back and stay here_. An emergency could come again at any time; it was not right for Michiru to use her command authority to try to influence Haruka, tempting as it was to sabotage whatever was developing between her and Roland. And, Haruka being Haruka, trying to drive her apart from Roland would likely make her get closer. Roland was always going to be Titania's father, after all, so there was never going to be an end to the link between Haruka and Roland.

_Let the rest of Marvell Jones' family go home?_ They were underfoot, and his mother wanted to go home. Michiru told her she could do what she wanted, but that Michiru thought it was safer for them to stay. "Your other son thinks the enemy might try to capture you." But the mother insisted, so Michiru let her go home with Olivia and Octavia in the car Mr. Tiggs had brought. That at least got the car back where it belonged.

But that left the problem of Mr. Tiggs himself. He would keep for now; he'd responded well to Naru's sleeping spell, and she could keep him asleep for another day if she had to. No one had come asking about him, but they were probably being watched now. _We will have to use a teleport to get him out of the house . . ._

Rei, of course, had opinions about everything, and now that Usagi and Minako were unavailable, she was of a mood to argue with Michiru. That is why Michiru decided not to hold a meeting; it would turn into a contest between herself and Rei, and settle nothing.

But there was still Setsuna, gone off by herself yet again. Michiru decided to intrude on Setsuna's privacy, because she needed a sensible sounding board. But before she could go to join Setsuna in the spa in the first basement, someone gave her more news which required even more decisions . . .

* * *

Michiru found Setsuna floating in the pool, instead of soaking in the hot bath. Setsuna was nude, raising other issues Michiru would rather avoid--she had put on a swimsuit before coming down. Setsuna was no prude, but did not casually display herself; this was another sign that she expected to be left alone.

"Setsuna?" 

"Michiru . . . what is it?"

"I want to talk. If you wish," said Michiru.

"You have command," Setsuna replied. She had not opened her eyes yet. "You do not need to ask."

"But I am asking," said Michiru.

"I am not saying no," said Setsuna.

Michiru hung up her robe, and stepped into the hot bath. It was not that far from the little pool, especially from the end Setsuna was floating in. "We need to do something about Mr. Tiggs, and there is another problem."

"Another problem?" asked Setsuna.

"Yes . . . It is Hotaru. She is pregnant," said Michiru.

"Does Shingo know?"

"No."

"How does she know? It can't be for very long," said Setsuna.

"Kimi Moon. Her eye, again. Minako and Kimi's sisters know, so everyone will know in a day or two." Michiru sighed. "Hotaru says she will think about it tonight, but . . . "

Michiru heard splashing. Setsuna climbed out of the single-lane pool, walked the few steps to the bath, and got in. Even nude, there were no real indicators of her age. She was supple as a gymnast, but always moved with the grace that only experience brings. The only other person Michiru knew with this truly ageless quality was the Grey Lady; even the Founder, thousands of years old, did not have it, at least in Michiru's eyes.

Once she had settled in, Setsuna put her head back, and said, "It will be no great surprise, except perhaps to Kenji . . . after all, Hotaru did catch Minako-chan's bouquet . . . "

"You are not disappointed?" said Michiru. They had, after all, raised Hotaru.

"I did not say that . . . " Setsuna let herself slide down, submerging her head for a moment. Once she brought her face back up from the water, she looked at Michiru, for the first time since they had started talking. "Let us speak of the more immediate problem. What do you want to do with Mr. Tiggs?"

"I am not sure."

"Why? You are quicker to judge than Rei-chan," said Setsuna.

Michiru felt hotter than the water for a moment, but she let the barb pass. "I do not see a good way to deal with Mr. Tiggs. If we send him through a gate, the American government will come looking for him. They may even think we have killed him, and that we are mixed up with Marvell Jones' gang. If we let him go, Marvell Jones will try to kill him. Or other gangsters, even if Mr. Jones can be persuaded to spare Mr. Tiggs."

"Not a good alternative," Setsuna said. "And we need permission from the Grey Company to send anyone through a gate. Unless he goes of his own will, I do not think the Company will allow it."

Michiru asked, "Have you thought of a way to keep him here safely?"

Setsuna said, "There is something I might try . . . but I will have to speak with Mr. Jones. Marvell Jones. And others, perhaps even the Founder."

"What?"

"Never mind. It might not be possible . . . " Setsuna dunked her head again, staying under for quite a long time. Michiru sometimes wondered why Setsuna was so at-ease in water; in some ways, more than herself, though as far as she knew she couldn't _breathe_ water like Michiru--as far as Michiru knew.

At last Setsuna emerged again. "I'll make the calls I need to make tonight. Don't mention this to the others, please."

"Of course." As if Michiru had _ever_ broken one of Setsuna's confidences.

Setsuna climbed out of the tub. Instead of toweling herself dry, she transformed. Michiru saw that she was looking at her reflection in the mirrors mounted on the walls to make the spa seem larger--special mirrors; they never seemed to fog up for very long. On his visits, the Founder spent a lot of time in the spa . . .

"What do you see?" Michiru asked. "What are you looking for?"

Setsuna said, "I was wondering about something that puzzles me . . . why I have no wings yet."

Michiru said, "You are . . . the most different of us, after all. And Mamoru has no wings."

"But he can fly," said Setsuna.

Michiru said, "Yes . . . but Besu and Parapara cannot."

Setsuna said, "But their sisters can. I am the only one of the first ten who cannot fly. And yet I am the only one of us who can fly . . . at least until Makoto solos."

Michiru said, "_Why_ is she learning to fly now? I thought she was terrified of airplanes."

Setsuna said, "She is. She thinks that learning to fly will help her with her fear. And make her a better flyer on her own . . . But at least she _can_ fly on her own."

Michiru said, "You are of immeasurable value as you are. Flight is not that important. Look at how much trouble it got Usagi into."

"But I want to fly . . ." Setsuna transformed back, and put on her robe. Before leaving, she came up to the edge of the tub, and said, "I am going to tell Hotaru she can sleep with Shingo."

"What?"

Setsuna said, "Hotaru cannot get in more trouble now. And she will make the same decision tomorrow she would now. Making her wait is cruel and pointless."

Michiru asked, "But why are you doing this _now?_"

"Who can be sure of tomorrow? Usagi slept with Chibi-Usa's father for only one night. She will never have another." Setsuna left after saying that.

Michiru felt dissatisfied. She had hoped to speak with Setsuna about Usagi's poor judgment in exposing Tiggs. And now Setsuna was doing something worthy of Usagi in her thoughtless youth. Where was Setsuna when Hotaru was small? Always on some mysterious errand . . . or doing something she was ashamed of?

But, of course, Setsuna had kept her together with Haruka in difficult times, and what was her life without her years with Haruka? Perhaps Setsuna was wise in the matter of Hotaru and Shingo . . . perhaps it would not be forever, but they should have their time together.

Michiru changed to the pool, transformed, merged her legs, and swam laps until every muscle pleaded with her to go up to bed.

* * *

Usagi woke up to bright sunlight. Mamoru was gone, of course. Even with Carmen and Ginger to help, and some "reworking" of the hospital computer records courtesy of Mercurius, he was always having to suddenly swap to cover emergency absences. Thanks to yesterday's crisis, all their plans for today, like so many others, were moot.

But as much as it hurt, it was nothing compared to the losses the families of the pilot and co-pilot had taken.

Usagi slid herself off her bed into her wheelchair, and rolled away to confront whatever the night had brought. Her first stop was Shingo's room, where her mother was looking through the half-opened door. When Usagi came close, she saw her mother had been crying, but not for a little while.

Usagi glanced inside just long enough to see that Hotaru was in Shingo's bed. _Why now?_ she complained to the gods. Her mother then closed the door and explained what Setsuna had told her. Going down in the elevator, very quiet and reliable but still slow, Usagi remarked just before the doors opened "I am really surprised that they waited this long. Longer than I did, _okasan_, with Mamoru."

Her mother said, "At least they will finish high school together . . . "

"Don't be so sad, _okasan_," said Usagi.

"Your babies aren't having a babies yet, Usako. I feel a thousand years old."

Usagi said, "No . . . but Chibi-Usa is having her period. Her second. She kept the first secret from me. From _me,_ _okasan_ . . . people are always telling me how much she is like me. If I was like that, _okasan_, why did you not drown me?"

Tsukino Ikuko said, "Because I knew one day you would have a child exactly like yourself!"

Usagi said, "And they say Michiru is mean . . . We should make sure they are married before _otousan_ gets home."

Her mother said, "I _was_ hoping _Shingo_ would have a nice wedding . . . but you are right. Better they are married and _otousan_ has less chance to fuss." She sighed. "Is there any other news? Ishi-chan told me her uncle got married. Did she mean Kevin's brother? The big gangster? And what on earth is going on in the back yard?"

The door finally opened. Usagi said, "Ne-e-eh, before you read the paper, I think I have to tell you a few more things . . . "

* * *

Marvell invited the woman into his office. She didn't pop in or fly in; she had parked a perfectly ordinary car across the street. She might be another mind reader like Mrs. Chiba, but he doubted it. Mrs. Chiba seemed to be taking care _not_ to discover his business. He knew the woman was an angel, but not her name. She was the one with hair colored dark green, darker complexion, and the quiet voice.

The woman said, "You seem to have something on your mind. New trouble?"

Marvell said, "I don't know if it's exactly trouble. Huffy's dead."

"Huffy?"

Marvell said, "Mr. Van Huff, if you please. The leader of the Reds up here; the one who tried to kill me yesterday."

The woman said, "That would seem to be good news, at least for you."

Marvell said, "I don't think I'll be sittin' up cryin' tonight, but it ain't exactly the _best_ news. And not just for me."

"Why? If you want to risk telling."

"Well . . . " Marvell leaned back in his chair, rocking it back a bit. "It ain't the _best_ news for me because I was gonna try to stop this war. Huffy did pull back his boys from the airport like I asked. I guess those dudes with the mortar didn't get the word in time. Anyways, now I don't have just Van Huff to make peace with; I have a whole bunch of little dudes who all want to be the big dude. And word is going around that I broke truce to get Huffy."

"And for us?" asked the woman.

Marvell said, "Unless you have feelings for Huffy, I don't think it matters much to you. But it probably means another long war. More people getting shot who don't have anything to do with the trade . . . won't really do much to the trade except make it more dangerous for everybody. Trade will go on long after I'm gone."

"Would you like to get out now?" the woman asked.

"That isn't what you want to talk about tonight?" said Marvell.

The woman replied, "No, I have another proposition for you . . . but if you ever want to get out of 'the trade' as you put it, I might be able to help you."

"Might?" asked Marvell.

"It would not be my decision."

"Oh, you mean Mrs. Chiba," said Marvell.

"No, although she could influence the decision." The woman paused a moment before continuing. "What I _need_ to talk to you about now is a way to handle Mr. Tiggs."

"Mrs. Chiba said you people were going to take care of that," said Marvell. "If you don't, I will."

The woman said, "We will. Mr. Tiggs is still very much alive and we intend to keep him that way. You should be interested in keeping him alive, too."

"Why? So he can testify against me?" asked Marvell.

The woman said, "Mr. Tiggs has certainly been making reports for a long time. His testimony wouldn't be crucial to any case against you that your government is prepared to prosecute. But what if Mr. Tiggs himself is compromised? Then his reports become suspect."

"That's an interesting thought," said Marvell, who wouldn't have gone as far as he had by using only strongarm tactics. "Do you have any ideas how to do that?"

"Several. And your Mr. Huff may provide another . . . "

* * *

John Garfield Crawford's plan for his first columns had been completely jettisoned by now. The spectacular events of the day following the reappearance of Lisette Pinatabo and the death of the young man she had pled for couldn't be ignored. So he wrote about it. It wasn't one of his best columns, but it was different from the run of things written about the Angel Nine incident. There were no speculations about divine intervention. He was close enough to the "angel" who had come out of the water to see that she was bleeding. Maybe they weren't human, but they were mortal. He was one of the very few to mention that.

It was a great column considering how little time he'd put into it. He'd spent his time rooting around looking for _anything_ on the Spotts story he might have missed, and come up with nothing. But he did get a break on the Angel Nine story, or at least its periphery. His favorite source in the OPD told him that the attacks on the aircraft were probably attempts to get their old friend Marvell Jones. "Looks like another war," said Shaw.

"Was he on that plane?" asked Crawford.

Shaw said, "Don't know. It was a shuttle; no passenger manifest. Anyway, Van Huff _thought_ he was. Now the word is Marvell wants a truce."

"Do you believe it?" Crawford asked.

Shaw replied, "I believe Marvell wants Van Huff to _think_ he wants a truce. But he's a fool if he trusts Marvell."

"You sound happy," said Crawford.

Shaw said, "Well, it's a win-win situation. Either Marvell kills Van Huff, or Van Huff kills Marvell. You know, I bet Marvell set up Van Huff. Fed him a false tip to see what he would do."

"False tip?" asked Crawford.

Shaw said, "Yeah. Word on the street was that old Marvell was in Las Vegas to get married. And Huff must have believed it."

Crawford said, "Well, maybe Spotts made him scared."

Shaw said, "Maybe . . . You wouldn't have anything for _me_, would you?"

Crawford said, "Not this time, Johnny . . . I would like you to help me with something else, if you can."

"What?" asked Shaw.

Crawford said, "A real old case. It was a gang-banger named Luther Ponds. He operated around Palo Alto, but he was from Oakland. Could you see if he has some history with the OPD?"

"Real old? Is he still around?" asked Shaw.

Crawford said, "No, he's dead. Maybe murdered. About seven years ago."

Shaw said, "I never heard of him. I've been with gangs too long to miss anyone important, even down in Palo Alto."

Crawford said, "He wasn't important, or at least he wasn't supposed to be. But somebody made things nasty for me when I looked into it there."

Shaw said, "I'll look around. Can't promise anything."

"Thanks. That's Luther Ponds, P-O . . . "

* * *

In the final chapters of **Nurse Venus**, Martin Tiggs must come to terms with Setsuna, the stranger he seems to somehow know. And Jack Crawford finds even more evidence that might link the Chibas to the anomalies he has been investigating for so long.

* * *

Send comments to: [sewell_thomas@hotmail.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:sewell_thomas@hotmail.com



	5. Part Five: Endgame

** Nurse Venus - Part 5, Conclusion **

** A ****Sailor Moon** fan fiction by **Thomas Sewell** ([**sewell_thomas@hotmail.com**][1]

...... _thought quotation_

**Chapter 16: Agent Tiggs**

"MR. TIGGS? MR. TIGGS?"

A woman's voice was loud in one ear. There was more than a hint of anger in it.

"Martin, I am here now," another voice called. A different woman, in a soft, clear voice. "Please, you _must_ wake up."

Where was he? There was bright light shining in his eyes. Even with the lids closed, it was too bright. He tried to raise his hands to cover his eyes, and found he couldn't. His wrists were bound--he could feel straps on his chest and elsewhere on his arms. And on his legs.

"Martin, don't try to move, please."

"Mr. Tiggs," said the harsher voice. _"Don't struggle._ Do you know where you are?"

"No," he answered. "Who are you? Both of you."

"Martin? You don't remember _me?_" The soft-voiced woman sounded hurt.

"Don't _you_ go ballistic on me, Suzy," said the other woman, not as harshly. "Let me do the talking for now." Now the harshness returned. "Mr. Tiggs. You have suffered a head trauma. It is very important that you try to stay awake now. Very important. And please don't struggle with the restraints."

"Why am I strapped in like this?" asked Tiggs.

The harsh voice said, "I had to immobilize you. We'll take off the restraints in awhile. Right now I need you to wake up and stay awake. Can you tell me the last thing you think you remember?"

Tiggs said, "I was driving . . . to Mrs. Jones'. Mr. Jones wanted me to take her . . . somewhere."

The soft voice said, "You can trust the doctor, Martin."

The doctor--the one with the harsher voice--said, "So you're driving. What day is it? Was it?"

Tiggs said, "Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" said the soft voice. "Were you taking Mrs. Jones to Concord?"

Tiggs said, "Yes, that was it . . . Concord. She was going to see a Mrs. Jarusek. Used to work for her." 

"Do you remember what happened next?" asked the soft voice.

Tiggs struggled to remember. "I . . . no . . . No, that's the last I remember . . . could you get that light out of my face? _Hey, that hurt!_"

"Sorry, Mr. Tiggs," said the harsher voice without a hint of apology.

"Let me do the rest," said the soft voice.

The light stayed in his face, and in fact got brighter. He could feel heat on his face.

"All right . . . I think you're making a big mistake, but it's your life, Suze." The light was gone.

Martin Tiggs opened his eyes and saw two beautiful women. One had marred her face with an irritated expression; she was blond, and she was moving a lamp away from him. The other had deep green hair, and an expression he found hard to read.

The blond, the "doctor," the one with the harsh voice, said to the other woman, "Look at that. I don't even think he remembers who you are, Suze."

"He will remember," the soft voice replied. "Look closer." The soft-voiced woman did not stop looking at him as she spoke. "You haven't forgotten _everything,_ Martin."

"I don't know who you are . . . but . . . " He did remember something . . . that face, that voice . . . words in a language he didn't understand, didn't even recognize, but yet . . .

The "doctor" shook her head. "I can't take any more of this now. Don't call me unless you really need me." She went to the windowless door, opened it into a featureless corridor, and then closed it behind her. Metallic noises indicated it was being locked.

The soft-voiced woman began unfastening the straps holding him fast to the bed--a hospital-type bed. But the place he was in was not a hospital. "Where are we?"

"A safe place. I'm not supposed to know where, but my guess is somewhere in West Oakland . . . You still don't remember me?"

Tiggs said, "I don't know who you are . . . I remember your face . . . and your voice . . . but I don't really remember knowing you."

"Well, that is something, I suppose . . . my name is Setsuna, Martin. Some of my American friends call me 'Suzy.'"

"Do I call you that?" asked Tiggs.

"You call me 'Setsuna.' You are not one for cute nicknames."

"And you call me Martin . . . what are you to me?" asked Tiggs.

"I am your wife, Mr. Martin Tiggs. That is why I am here, wherever this is." She had finished with the straps. She began rubbing his legs. "I am _not_ a nurse, but Minako told me this would help."

"It doesn't feel bad . . . You're my wife . . . since when?" Tiggs asked.

"Since twenty-four days ago. Unfortunately, you have been here for twenty-two of them. At least, I assume you were here; Mr. Jones did not let me come here until a few days ago . . . Do you think you can get up now?"

Tiggs said, "I think so." She let down the rails on one side, and he eased his legs over the edge of the bed. He felt quite weak, but he pushed himself off and began to stand--wobbling. He would have fallen if the woman--_Setsuna--_had not steadied him. "Well, that was interesting . . . so, you are Mrs. Martin Tiggs now. There was one before you."

"I know that. Lorraine. You have not told me much about her. I do not care to know more."

There were more immediate mysteries. "Why am I laid up like this?"

"I assume you were shot. Your boss decided to keep you here. He said you would be safer. Of course, _he_ is safer if you are not in the hospital with police to question you . . . but he is protecting you." She shook her head. "Maybe it is better not to remember what you did. Even if you have forgotten us."

Tiggs said, "Wait . . . wait. Let me sit down . . . Okay, why don't you just tell me from when I last remembered? What you know, or think you know?"

"That Wednesday . . . the only special thing was that we had time to really meet and be by ourselves. There was no such time until Mr. Jones decided to get married. I thought, why not us, too?" She smiled, but her eyes remained sad. "I took the risk. I felt something special about you. There would never be another chance to come together."

"And then?" asked Tiggs.

"When your boss came back, someone tried to shoot down the plane. The pilots were killed. I managed to land the plane--"

"_You_ landed the plane?" exclaimed Tiggs.

"Yes . . . not a very smooth landing, but no one else died. Those strange angel girls helped get people out of the plane . . . then there was the war between your boss and his enemies."

Martin Tiggs considered the woman, and where he was, and how he felt. "That's quite a story. But I don't remember any of it."

She was sitting beside him, and her hands gripped him a little more tightly, for a moment. "As I said . . . perhaps it is better you do not remember." She looked away from him, and started to talk about flying. He had no doubt after a few minutes that, whatever else she really was, she was a pilot.

* * *

The windowless door opened after Martin Tiggs had heard a _lot_ of flying stories, and the details of various aircraft. It was Marvell Jones, the man he had been stalking for nearly two years. He came in alone, but there were others outside, casting shadows, making footsteps, adding their presence.

The woman fell silent.

He walked up to the bed, a considerable distance--the room looked like it had been an office area, long ago; there were marks in the old linoleum that marked out desks and filing cabinets. There had been windows; they were now patches of mismatched concrete.

Marvell Jones stopped a few feet away, just far enough so that he couldn't be reached by a sudden rush. He looked at Martin Tiggs for what seemed a long, long time. Finally he began to speak. "Heard you don't remember."

Tiggs said, "Some, boss. A lot. Including how I got here."

Marvell stopped speaking again. After staring a little longer, he turned, and began to walk away. But then he stopped, whirled around, and brought out a gun. Martin could see the lands down the barrel. Jones stepped forward again, stopping, again, just beyond a sudden rush. Keeping the gun aimed, he said, "I ain't _sure_ you were the one who did Huffy. But I owe her. That's why you're here, _Agent_ Tiggs. Alive. Tell me you understand that."

"I understand," said Tiggs.

"Bullshit." Jones holstered his gun."Don't matter to you. But it matters to me." He looked at his watch. Then he fished something out of his pocket, and threw it on the floor. Car keys. "Get him out."

"He's very weak," said the woman.

"Get him _out_," said Marvell Jones.

Jones left. The woman picked up the keys. Then she boosted Tiggs off the bed. "Come on, before Mr. Jones changes his mind."

"Where are we going?" asked Tiggs.

The soft-voiced woman that was now his wife said, "To my car. Mr Jones had my keys. I assume it is somewhere nearby . . . sorry, nothing for your feet. Do you want me to carry you?"

* * *

The building they had been in was an elderly warehouse, no great surprise. His "wife's" car was an undistinguished small coupe, although he was alert enough to notice it had very-low-profile tires, allowing for larger wheels--and brakes. The shift was manual, and the woman was very smooth using it. She drove fast, but seemed well in control of the car.

It was night. No moon was visible, and few stars--reading the sky wasn't one of his talents. There was no car clock he could see. "What time is it?"

"Almost four, I think," answered the woman.

"Almost four. Sounds like a good time to ask. Where are we going?" asked Tiggs.

"Home. My place . . . Would you rather go to yours?" asked the woman.

Tiggs said, "Your place is fine for now . . . I live--I _did_ live at Mr. Jones'. On-call all the time. You didn't know that?"

"No."

"You're my wife, and you didn't know that?"

The woman said, "You did not tell me. You did not tell me you were a policeman, either."

Tiggs asked, "Are you working for him? Marvell?"

The woman said, "No. I may have done some work for him, through others. But I have only spoken to him a few times, and never about a job . . . All I knew of you was that you were his favorite driver, until we got together. You didn't tell me anything about the _trade,_ as Mr. Jones calls it. I didn't ask. I won't ask now . . . I didn't marry you to get into your _trade._"

"Why did you?"

"I decided you were worth the risk, Mr. Martin Tiggs . . . and you still are, to me."

They were almost on the freeway. A police car was alongside them, waiting for the same light. All he had to do was flag them, and . . .

The light changed. The woman--_Setsuna_--turned onto the freeway; the police car continued on, passing under the freeway, vanishing from sight.

Tiggs said, "I do remember . . . something . . . I saw you once or twice at that place where Kev lives."

Setsuna said, "That is also my place . . . I live with my friends there. And my ward, Hotaru. Though now . . . "

"What?"

Setsuna said, "She is married now. Suddenly, like us. Though she has known the boy for many years . . . I could hardly tell her to wait, could I?"

They passed several police cars on the way to the mansion. She took the most direct route; it was so near Marvell's mother's, there could be no mistake.

They went in through the back gate. She took him in through the kitchen, and was going on to the elevator, when he said, "Stop."

"Here?"

"I need to call in," said Tiggs.

"You can call in from upstairs." She took him into the elevator. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and he was still unsteady.

It was a long ride up.

"I'm sorry . . . I just don't believe what you've told me," Tiggs said to the woman.

"I know. You do not remember. I am like a stranger to you now."

Nothing more was said in the elevator. She led him to a room which faced out over the front of the house, and to a bed. It was not a particularly feminine room; the walls were hung with pictures of aircraft, mostly old ones. The only really soft touch was a spray of roses in a beaker of water--blue roses. He looked closely as he passed them; they were real.

Then she guided him onto the bed, and set the phone down next to him. It had buttons for several lines. "Nine first for an outside line."

He expected her to leave. Instead, she slipped out of her clothes, putting them all into a hamper. He watched her, of course, and continued to watch as she put on a robe. "A long time since my last shower," she said. When he didn't reply, she added, "Yes, I am like a stranger to you. But you are not a stranger to me, Mr. Martin Tiggs." Then she left.

When he was sure she was gone, he began his call.

* * *

**Chapter 17: A Place for Martin**

MARTIN TIGGS found his welcome back into the Bureau very cold from the first. They took him out of the Bay Area immediately. He spent some hospital time in Bethesda, in a closed ward. Then it was out to Maryland--not to the headquarters, but to a low-profile facility. He took a course in new techniques for getting more out of fingerprints, then another in new developments in auto theft and security. He spent remarkably little time being debriefed, considering how long he had been undercover. Every inquiry was met with a variation on "We're not ready yet."

He lots of free time--too much. He actually went to New York to visit Lorraine. _That_ was a mistake. She was interested . . . but Tiggs found he wasn't. She was what she was: somebody who needed taking care of. Charming in a child, but not in a woman he could stay interested in.

He wrote to the woman who'd claimed to be his wife. He chose writing because it maintained distance; calling her would be more personal than he wanted to be. It would also mean listening to her voice, which he hadn't heard the like of. He didn't say much, really. The real message was, "Are you interested?"

After several weeks, a reply came. There was a little news about her friends, especially about her ward, who apparently had had a shotgun wedding. Also that his old boss was going to be a father about the same time. But the part that mattered was this one:

_I will cooperate if you wish to end our marriage. I am, after all, no more than a stranger to your mind. But would you allow me to spend some time with you first?_

She sent a photograph. She was sitting on her bed, completely dressed and modestly posed. She was holding a little flowerpot in her hand, with a single blue rose growing from a tiny bush.

He kept that picture. In two days, he bought a frame for it, and wrote back. The gist of that letter was:

_Maybe._

Before Setsuna's next letter arrived, he was transferred to Cleveland. Two months later, Denver. Six weeks later, Anchorage. It was then that Martin Tiggs had to admit that he was "on the bicycle." This was a time-honored way to encourage resignation. Before he signed away his career, Tiggs made some calls to people he thought were his friends in the bureau.

A month after that, he was surprised to get a lunch invitation from one. Very surprised, because his friend worked out of Miami.

* * *

The lunch was at at, appropriately, the Miami Lounge.

"Vic. Long time no see," said Martin Tiggs.

Victor Ballin replied, "Hi, Marty. Too damned long . . . Just coffee for now," he said to the waitress.

"I thought we were having lunch," said Tiggs.

Ballin said, "I don't have much appetite . . . Marty, I'm here for the Bureau."

Tiggs said, "Oh . . . too bad, the salmon steak here is the best in town. Well, go on."

Ballin said, "Marty, you have to get out. There's no way around it." He pulled a folder from his inside jacket pocket, and presented it to Tiggs, along with a pen. "If I don't bring this back, the Bureau is going to suspend you. You don't want that, Marty."

"Why wouldn't I want my hearing?" asked Tiggs.

"Because you'll _lose,_ Marty," said Ballin.

"What am I supposed to have done?"

"Marty, don't bullshit _me._ You whacked Van Huff. There is no way Marvell Jones would have let you live if you didn't! I don't know if that 'amnesia' of yours is real--"

"It's a real steel plate in my head," said Tiggs.

"Well, then, maybe you _don't_ remember. But you did it. We can't use _any_ of your work against Jones in court. We're never going to be able to get another one in as close as you. Marty, it's over. Get out before they find the money."

"Money? You think . . . " But of course, they thought.

He took the pen, and signed. But he held the papers back. "Vic, I didn't take money. Marvell must have made me . . . maybe from the first. You've got a leak in the Bureau, and I wasn't it." He handed over the papers. "Remember that."

Victor Ballin took the papers, checked the signatures, and put them back in his jacket. "I'm sorry, Marty . . . sorry." He finished his coffee. "Got any plans? I know some hotels that could use a good security chief."

"No. I think I'll just go home to the wife."

* * *

The only way his exit from the Anchorage office could have been made faster was to use an ejection seat. Getting out of Anchorage itself was another matter; the airport was shut down for five days, not by winter weather, but a strike by equipment operators. On the third day, he gave up, and bought a bus ticket. Driving was not a sane option. He found a bus down the Alaska highway was not a significantly saner one.

He kept trying to call Setsuna. He kept getting the same answer, variations on "Sorry, she's not here. But come anyway. You are welcome."

Some hours less than a week after "lunch" at the Miami Lounge, near the end of one of the more miserable Januarys in the memory of the Bay Area, Martin Tiggs waited for a ride from the bus terminal. He had thought of taking a cab--but refusing a courtesy was a bad way to start in his new home. If he really had a home here. He actually thought about taking out the picture, but he had burned the image in his mind. Setsuna, on her bed. _A place for you here._

He didn't remember anything of their time together, really together, if it had really happened . . . except the images of her body, and he was not sure they weren't dreams. But he was starting to remember dreams . . . old dreams. Long ago, he had dreams of a lady . . . dark against light bright behind her. When he was a boy, just after his mother died . . . he could never really see her in the dream, but the voice was soft, yet clear . . . he had never understood any words, but he had been comforted by the voice.

That could be it. Coincidence. Setsuna had a voice like the one he thought he remembered from the dream.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you all right?"

It was a cop--a white one, a woman. Her partner was a woman, but black.

He started bring out his Bureau shield--but of course, he didn't have one. They tensed, and he would have been in real trouble in another second. He stopped his hands, and said, "Sorry . . . I was thinking about something. I didn't notice you here."

"Could we see some ID?"

"Yes . . . here."

"Alaska?"

"Yes, Alaska. Too cold for me."

"What brings you here, Mr. Tiggs? If you don't mind my asking."

Before Tiggs could think about an answer, or whether he would give one, the cops were startled by a horn. Mrs. Chiba had driven up in her van. A tall, strong woman got out as soon as the van stopped. The cops melted away from her. So did Tiggs, for a moment . . . though he couldn't say why. She seemed in a much better mood than Mrs. Chiba.

Tiggs prompted the cops, "If I could have my license? My ride is here."

* * *

Mrs. Chiba did not talk much on the way back, and she set the tone for her friend. Tiggs already knew the answer to the most important question of the day: would Setsuna be home? _Maybe tomorrow night._

But Martin Tiggs could not help asking, "How's Marvell's war going?" He hadn't followed it for a long time, since it had become clear the Bureau didn't want him involved with the Marvell Jones investigation any further.

Mrs. Urawa started to say something, but Mrs. Chiba barked something in Japanese, and that seemed to be the end of that. He didn't say any more about Jones or his war. Tiggs had not come back to hunt down Marvell Jones on his own.

Then he noticed that Mrs. Chiba was taking a different route. He found out why when they passed the place Jones had set his mother up in. Or rather, the place where that house had once stood.

It was a burnt-out ruin. Mrs. Chiba began explaining at last. "Old Mrs. Jones is still in hospital. His wife's mother was killed, the lady who liked you so much. His wife is staying with us now, and that is why the police watch our place all the time. Probably our phones are all tapped now."

As they came up on the mansion a few minutes later, and he spotted what could only be a surveillance van parked just where it could watch the front and side entrances of the place.

He asked, "What about Marvell?"

Mrs. Urawa answered that one. "He wasn't hurt much. He was lucky, again. Mr. Marvell Jones is a very lucky man."

"Yeah . . . well, his luck will run out someday."

"Yes, it will," answered Mrs. Chiba as she turned up the side street. As she made the turn, Tiggs was close enough to actually recognize a man standing outside the van. Not someone from the Bureau; OPD. An older plainclothes cop he remembered seeing a lot in his rearview when he was driving Marvell. He was talking to someone inside, while keeping an eye on Mrs. Chiba's vehicle.

Tiggs had not spotted a tail on the van, but he hadn't been looking for one. There were better ways to keep track of a car now; a tail was really a message, at least from the Bureau. The OPD was behind the times, though, even for a city police department.

When they went inside the house, Martin Tiggs looked out to see if his most familiar tail was still there. He wasn't, at least in sight, and the van was probably federal--after all, this _wasn't_ Oakland.

Tiggs put that in the back of his mind for now, and began to feel his way around the place, and the people who were letting him share it.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Marvell's wife didn't want anything to do with Tiggs. This was especially awkward, because the tiny woman, despite her pregnancy, was very energetic. She cooked, she cleaned, she mended clothes, she tended children. She was liable to turn up anywhere, making it even more difficult for Tiggs to establish himself.

Kevin Jones was harder for Tiggs to understand.

It was impossible to read his face, of course: Kevin Jones didn't really have one. He did have something resembling a nose now, a piece of flesh to cover the hole he breathed through. Otherwise, he looked through the same frightful mask Tiggs remembered.

Marvell's brother hadn't figured much in the case, at least as far as Tiggs had been allowed to know. While Tiggs had been undercover, he'd met Kevin only a few times. He'd seemed to be a civilian, although Tiggs knew he _had_ been working for Marvell before his terrible injuries. Martin Tiggs did _not_ think the AG had laid off Kevin because she had been feeling merciful. She must have looked at Kevin and decided he wasn't a profitable target.

As the days passed with no sign of Setsuna, Tiggs discovered only one definite change in Kevin Jones: he'd picked up enough education to use a computer. Tiggs found him using a scheduling program, to juggle appointments and activities for the other people living in the house, especially the children. Marvell's brother took most phone calls, and he was always reminding people that it was time for this and not to forget that.

Since Kevin seemed to be the scheduler, Tiggs thought he would probably be the first to hear when Setsuna was really coming back. Tiggs found it took more from him than he had expected to ask Marvell's brother for some help, even as slight as he was asking. The response he got was his second surprise from the crippled husk who had won the trust of Setsuna's friends, even the love of one of them . . .

* * *

"No, I don't have word," Kevin replied to the question. "_Might_ be tonight, but I wouldn't bet. You marry one of the girls, you gonna be waitin' alone a lot. Get used to it."

"Thanks."

Tiggs started to leave; it was rare to catch _anyone_ alone in the mansion, and Jones' stepdaughter was already approaching him. The child, older than he had first thought from her size, stopped to regard him, and for a moment seemed even older--reminding him of Mrs. Chiba, the one who unsettled Tiggs the most.

Suddenly the ache he had for Setsuna swelled into something unbearably sweet.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Kevin Jones had somehow stood up without Tiggs noticing. Jones said, "She'll come. Maybe tonight, maybe not for awhile, but she'll come back."

The little girl spoke to him. "Auntie Setsuna wants to be with you, Mr. Tiggs. She wants to a lot."

But then Marvell's wife came along with Mrs. Chiba, and Tiggs retreated.

* * *

Hotaru Tsukino, who had been Setsuna's ward, was now married to Mrs. Chiba's brother. Tiggs found her harder to approach than anyone, though not because she was hostile to him in any way.

She never seemed to be alone, and for good reason. While pregnancy didn't seem to slow down Marvell's wife in the least, it put Hotaru in bed for most of her day. Sometimes it put her in a hospital bed--she was gone his second and third nights. Someone was _always_ keeping an eye on her--and quite often that someone was Mrs. Chiba or Marvell's wife. Or Michiru, the violinist, or Mrs. Kumada--hard to tell which had the worst temper, but he never wanted to meet either of them armed!

Unfortunately, that someone was never her husband, or almost never. He was going to M.I.T. The boy had flown back for the crisis, but Hotaru had insisted he return; Tiggs had actually heard them talking. She did not talk very much at all, but Tiggs observed that when she did talk, people listened, even Mrs. Chiba, who seemed to have the final decision in all matters in the strange household.

Tiggs was very surprised when, early one afternoon, as he returned from a walk during one of the breaks in the weather, the quiet young woman said to Mrs. Urawa, "I would like to talk with Mr. Tiggs, Auntie."

The tall woman protested, but not long. She left Hotaru alone with Tiggs, taking in fresh air under the eaves of the open back porch--no longer stylish, since half of it had been taken away for the wheelchair ramp and a space for Mrs. Chiba's special van, but a nice place to spend a quiet while, even on a drizzly day. Hotaru was in her own wheelchair, a motorized monster that emphasized how delicate she was, and so bundled up she was all but lost in the blankets and winter clothing.

Tiggs sat in one of the chairs, though they were all damp enough to soak through his pants, because it seemed more polite. Then he asked, "Is there anything special you want to talk about?"

"Yes. I want to talk about Mama Setsuna."

"Oh . . . I guess I must be hard for you to accept, being with her. I am not sure at all that I should be . . . but I have to see. I'm not trying to take her away from you."

"You are wrong."

"No, I'm not. I'm not going to take her away from you or any of her friends here."

"That is not what I meant, Mr. Tiggs." The girl extended a slender hand to manipulate the joystick, and swiveled so that she faced him more squarely. "You are wrong about feeling that you are not the one for her. She has waited a long time."

Tiggs felt like he was being lectured by a child. "Yes . . . but that does not mean we are right for each other. You will find that love is never that simple."

"You do not need to teach me that!"

"I . . . I'm sorry . . . should I go?"

"No, stay. You are important to Mama Setsuna, so you are important to me." She paused a moment. "You must not give up. It will be difficult. But you are the only one for Mama Setsuna. You will not have to share her, really."

"Share her?"

Her eyes had a dark liquid look. "Mama Michiru's heart is breaking because she must share Papa Haruka with a man, or lose her. Auntie Ginger loves Uncle Mamoru, but he belongs to Auntie Usagi and she will not do anything to hurt Auntie Usagi . . . but Auntie Usagi knows how her friend hurts, and she hurts because of it. Maybe they _should_ share . . ."

"You said 'really.' Who do I have to _not_ _really _share Setsuna with?"

"She has always loved Mamoru . . . but Auntie Ami and Auntie Minako and Auntie Rei love Mamoru too. That does not mean they do not love their husbands. Auntie Setsuna is the same for you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I want you and Mama Setsuna to be happy together. You will never be happy if you are not together. Please remember that. It is so easy to come apart, so hard to come together."

"Thank you . . . you wouldn't be sharing your guy, would you?"

Her eyes grew sadder and more liquid, but she did not cry. "I think so . . . Shingo had a girlfriend before me, when he was very young. They grew apart after he moved here, and she stayed in Japan. Then I came to live here, and I found I loved Shingo. I kept them from getting back together. But now I must stay here because of the baby coming. And his old girlfriend, Mika, is at the university Shingo is at . . . I cannot blame her. She is doing to me what I did to her."

"Why didn't you let him stay, then? I heard you arguing. I understood the English parts."

"Because I promised Shingo's mother and father that this baby would not hold Shingo back from school."

"I don't think anyone would hold to you that now, with all the trouble you have."

"There is no honor in a promise you keep because you are forced to keep it . . . That is what Mama Setsuna taught me." She waited a few moments, looking at him, and beyond him at the drizzle turning into real rain. Then she said, "I think it is time to go inside."

* * *

Martin Tiggs slept well enough in Setsuna's room, but he didn't like to spend time there awake. It was so empty. He fell into the habit of reading late, or sometimes catching late news in the lounge, after the kids were all chased to their beds in the basement. That was a precaution . . . the dormers the children had been sleeping in were thin-walled, outside the steel-and-concrete shell of the main house.

He wasn't really ready for sleep when he left the lounge; he was full of thoughts that Hotaru had started. But there was nothing worth staying up; he didn't want to get into the habit of staying up nights, and sleeping days. However it went with Setsuna, he was going to have to build a new life, and keeping reasonable hours was a part of making sure he didn't give up. He did stop to look out at the moon, full, just past its zenith for the evening, out of one of the south-facing windows along the walkway. There was a short break in the weather; there should be another line of rain-laden clouds coming in from the sea before the sun was properly up. But just now, the sky was wonderfully clear, and the skyglow was muted enough to see a fair number of stars.

He heard footsteps behind him, padding on the hardwood of the walkway. No one wore shoes in this house, not even the most Americanized of the children. He wasn't curious enough to look away from the moon and stars as they could rarely be seen from the Bay.

But then, instead of falling away as the walker turned to go into a room or down the stairs or across to the other side, the footsteps stopped. And a soft, clear voice said, "I am here for you, Martin."

Tiggs turned around. In the moonlight, he saw that it was really her, Setsuna.

"You're wearing just what you wore in the picture."

"Yes. It seemed right."

"When did you get here? How did you get in?"

"I've been here for a little while . . . how I got in isn't important now. Martin?"

"Yes?"

"May we go to bed now?"

"Yes . . ." He eased forward, putting her arms around her. She slowly and rather awkwardly responded, but her kiss was guileless. But then she pulled back a bit.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing . . . Let's go to our room."

He kept silent until they were behind the closed door. Tiggs tried to break the ice by saying, "I hope I don't disappoint. I don't remember what we did before."

"You need not worry. This is the first time."

She started getting out of her clothes, and that was the end of words that he would remember for awhile. And he soon had evidence that, whatever Setsuna felt for Mamoru or any other men before him, she had indeed waited for him, and given to him what she could give to no other. And later, at one point, he was almost sure he was floating on air . . . 

* * *

**Chapter 18: Two Right Guys**

JOHN GARFIELD CRAWFORD found he was a natural columnist. His first six months of columns were coming out as a book by spring. A few more years, and it was clear he would make more money than he had from a lifetime of investigative reporting.

But investigation was what drew him. He spent at most three or four hours a day on his columns. He spent most of his time rooting around, trying to uncover things. And he never forgot the cover-ups that had brought him back to the Bay, even if he dug into other things for awhile.

He did not forget Dr. Mizuno, old Dr. Yawada's forlorn love, and her connection with Dr. Chiba, and the web of connections that led from there to the Kensington mansion, which was now quite publicly known as the refuge chosen by the wife of the biggest druglord in the country--a man who hadn't been seen in public since the year began. But it wasn't _seen _on the news often--the Kensington police did _not_ issue permits to film near it; none of the residents gave interviews; rogue photographers were not only vigorously pursued by lawyers; they were liable to have their equipment broken. While the neighbors were not happy to have unwanted publicity, the mansion was a focus for the neighborhood, and the people there had friends.

Dr. Alvarson, the owner, had a very low profile for such a wealthy man. But he did answer his e-mail, if you waited long enough, and he had provided Crawford with concise, believable answers about his involvement. He was fond of the mansion, but it was really useless as an ordinary residence. While it would make a wonderful bed-and-breakfast, zoning and location ruled that out. It was basically a perk now for the Tsukino family, and to a lesser extent the Kumadas and the Mercurius founders, who all spent time there. The others--they were guests of the guests, but he was offering them his hospitality.

Dr. Mizuno was now a resident most of the time; she had decided to do her residency at Highland, in Surgery. Dr. Chiba was now on staff there, and Dr. Carmen Gonsoles, sister of the miracle girl. They were beginning to be names in Trauma surgery. They were getting lots of practice. The drug war was still raging, and Highland was getting critical cases from as far away as Auburn.

The murder of Louis Spotts was a closed case: the killer was a kid younger than himself, the motive revenge, and the had killer finished dying before Spotts. How the killer had gotten into exactly the right spot was something the OPD would not say . . . it was "under investigation."

The death of Luther Ponds so long ago was a forgotten case, except by Crawford, and even he was losing track. But near the end of March, and the possible return of tolerable weather, he spotted the rumpled form of officer Shaw attacking a plate of hash and eggs, and he went into the diner to talk.

After swapping stories for awhile, Shaw brought up the forgotten Ponds. "I finally got a line on him for you. Hard as hell to dig it out; I was just lucky."

"What was it? Something big?" asked Crawford.

Shaw said, "No, but it makes _me_ mad. It seems the late lamented Mr. Ponds had a very special friend in the DA's office. Mr. Ponds turned on some of his friends, and his new friend made his problems go away. He was smart enough to make Ponds get out of the county, but I bet Mr. Ponds didn't become a model citizen in Santa Clara County."

"I have heard rumors to that effect. But what's special about that?" Crawford asked.

Shaw said, "What's special is the problems that went away for Mr. Ponds. Luther not only sold drugs; he had a hobby. Rape. He had a partner for some of them, but he was looking good for a half-dozen solos, including one that died. But he was gold to our bright young prosecutor who wanted a breakout case."

Crawford said, "That stinks high enough. But why wasn't Ponds in witness protection?"

Shaw said, "Because someone killed off the guy our bright young DA was going after. Ponds was worthless after that. But our bright boy had already made the deal, already sent up the partner for all the rapes. So he let go of Luther and told him to shut up and get out of town."

"Where is our bright young lawyer today?" asked Crawford.

"He's our bright young State Attorney General now," said Shaw.

"How was he able to bury it?" Crawford asked.

"Easy. Ponds was a minor then. All this stuff is in his sealed record." Shaw mopped up the last of the hash and egg yolk with his toast. "That's all I have on him. But I bet if you go through the blotters around Palo Alto, you'll find some rapes that look the same." He took a small notebook out, flipped through it, and tore out part of a page. "Those are the victims, and that was his partner."

"Partner still around?" asked Crawford.

Shaw said, "I don't know. He got a new trial and beat the rap. But he just disappeared a little while later. Probably dead; he just wasn't smart enough to hide out, and didn't know enough to get into witness protection. Or maybe he's doing time under another name. But _officially_ he's a missing person. I guess his mother loves him."

* * *

Crawford needed another two weeks to assemble the basic facts, the ones which were in the public record, but buried by indifference.

Ponds had partnered with Eugene Parris, a young man who definitely was not the brains of the pair. Parris could barely write his own name. He was big and strong, though. But he was also fat, not the sort of boy who could manage on well on a bicycle, which was used in some of the rapes. Luther Ponds, on the other hand, was a wiry, long-legged chap who could get just about anywhere on a mountain bike.

The rapes they had done together were all done using a car. They showed guns, and the girls who got in the car were taken away and raped.

Sure enough, a series of rapes occured in Palo Alto and the cities around it--particularly Ravenswood, the poor, rough town where Ponds and then Parris usually lived. Parris was actually arrested with Ponds a couple of times for other offenses; their friendship seemed to have survived a timely betrayal. Or maybe Parris was so stupid he believed whatever story Ponds had made up.

Rapes of women in lonely areas by a man on a bicycle started being reported after Ponds moved in. And gunpoint abductions started being reported when Parris showed up.

Parris disappeared first, and the gunpoint abductions stopped. Ponds had died about a year and a half later, and the bicycle rapist disappeared with him.

There was no great mystery why Parris had not been caught; all his abductions had been in Ravenswood. He was smart enough to make credible threats. Ravenswood could not afford a lot of protection. Most people assumed that Parris had been killed by an angry father or brother, or by one of the gangs for being a nuisance.

Ponds had a better rep in Ravenswood. But the bicycle rapist had only one reported victim in that town. Crawford didn't really get much further with the matter of Ponds, except to become even more certain the local PDs were covering up an enormous embarassment in letting him run free in exchange for his inside information.

But by digging around in Ravenswood another two weeks, he found out something very interesting about Mr. Parris. He found the man who had stolen his car. Ronald Tarkington's car-stealing days were gone with the use of his legs; he'd got himself shot. With the statute of limitations now covering all of his crimes, he was happy to talk.

* * *

Ronald Tarkington was telling the story. "I saw him driving the car. He was doggin' this girl--blonde girl, with two long ponytails. In a school uniform, I remember, but nothin' like what I've seen around here. I saw him stop, and drop down below the windows--goin' over to the other side the car, to open the door. The girl talked to him some, and started gettin' closer."

"What happened next?" prompted Crawford.

Tarkington said, "I don't know, I thought I saw a cop car, down the other street."

"So you ran from the police?" asked Crawford.

Tarkington said, "No, I ran to _get_ the cop. But he gone. Anyway, I came back to look again, and Eugene's car was just sittin' there. Keys in it, the door still open, engine runnin'. So I took it. Man, that Eugene was a P-I-G _pig!_ There was so much dirt in that car, you could plant greens, you wanted to."

"What about the girl?" asked Crawford.

"Passed her on the street a little ways later. She didn't pay me no mind. Pretty thing. I don't know how she got away from old Eugene, but she was just walkin' along, eatin' some fries." The former thief shook his head. "We both walkin' then."

"Both? What do you mean?" Crawford asked.

Tarkington said, "Oh, I sees her once in awhile. Down at the hospital, or at the college, or in town. She in a chair like me, now."

"Do you know her?"

Tarkington said, "No . . . but I know her name. Miz Sheba. She married to this doctor used to be at the free clinic all the time. He still show up sometimes."

* * *

There it was. Parris and Ponds. Mamoru Chiba reported finding Ponds. And his old partner Parris vanished right after he was seen stalking the then future Mrs. Chiba. Chiba might be a Casanova, but he might also have defended his women with deadly force. Who better than a doctor to excise a walking tumor like Parris? And Ponds too, though it was harder to see a personal motive.

Did the cops _know?_

No, that was fantasy. There were small towns where the murder of the right guy would be overlooked, but not around the Bay. Cops wouldn't even cover for cops all the time; civilians could expect no breaks. No, the cops missed it because they didn't look hard enough, and because Parris and Ponds were found in different jurisdictions--and because Ponds was a snitch, and checking into the death of a snitch might lead to a cop who gave him up.

Report it? Publish?

He had nothing that would hold up in court. Even if the wheelchair-bound ex-car thief would testify against Dr. Chiba or his wife, what he knew meant nothing unless it was fit into the whole pattern. 

And Parris and Ponds were definitely the right guys to be dead.

But this still didn't make sense linked up to the anomalies and the angel girls. Except . . .

Except Parris had just disappeared, like the "possible anomalies" on the list. Maybe the angels disappeared them all. The one at the lake had flown carrying Kevin Jones. She could have carried off others, to be quietly disposed of. There had been lots of them at the Angel Nine crash, carrying people to safety--and _maybe_ just _going_ from one place to another. The little ones in the Sauvage tape might have done that.

But if Chiba had made Parris disappear, maybe with some help, why had Chiba reported finding Ponds? 

Once again, Crawford had followed a lead to a dead end. 

But if the house in Kensington was off-limits to reporters, Highland Hospital wasn't. And he soon had another reason to be there . . .

* * *

**Chapter 19: Deathwatch**

JACKIE JONES had been in Intensive Care her whole time in the hospital. She hadn't been in a coma for all of her stay . . . but she was now. Word could not help leaking out that her deathwatch had begun.

* * *

Dardenella Jones was the oldest surviving child of Jackie Jones. Crawford knew that, of course, but he did not recognize her when he first saw her. There wasn't a great resemblance between her and Marvell, though she did look something like the man Kevin had once been. Perhaps he expected her to be in uniform; all of her file photos since high school had been of her as a Marine.

"Ms. Jones?" he asked, before she was far enough past him so he would have to run to catch up.

She stopped. She took time to bring her shoulders back and her head up, and then turned back to face him. "Yes. And you?"

"Jack Crawford." He moved closer, close enough to speak comfortably. Other people in the corridor who had stopped or slowed up went on with whatever business they had. "I didn't know you were here."

"I guess everyone will know now."

He took a card from his shirt pocket, and handed it to her. "Not from me. If you want to tell your story, you can find me."

She took the card, and left.

Crawford meant it . . . but he also calculated his noble gesture would yield a great story later, balanced against a trivial one now. He continued to roam, hoping to run into Dr. Chiba, gleaning background from the staff.

Crawford did not mention her in his column until she was noticed leaving the hospital two days later.

* * *

Three days after he first met Marvell Jones' sister, Crawford came across Shaw again--_Sergeant _Shaw, after so many years. Shaw was catching yet another meal, in the Highland cafeteria. He was in uniform--a new uniform, but looking as if it was already a bit too small.

"Johnny, I think you should leave the pie for me," Crawford said good-naturedly.

"Get your own damn pie, Jack," said Shaw.

"What are you doing in uniform, _Sergeant?_" asked Crawford.

"Department wants the officers watching Mrs. Jones here all in uniform," explained Shaw, between bites.

"Congratulations on the promotion. I didn't think you'd make it," said Crawford.

"Well, if I'm a good boy, I could retire as a Lieutenant," said Shaw. "And I'm going to go out as a good boy. I'll have my thirty at the end of August."

Crawford said, "How will the OPD get on without you?"

Shaw said, "I could give a rat's patoot . . . I do have something for you, Jack."

"What?"

"Marvell Jones' wife is up in a labor room now. If Marvell ever shows, he should show for this."

* * *

Crawford was intending to keep quiet about Marvell Jones' wife, but he found it was pointless within hours. He couldn't help but write a column about Marvell Jones, because he had to write about his mother approaching death, and his wife struggling to bring forth his child, all under the watch of police, and cameras, and gunmen. He didn't say anything more about Dardenella than that she was there.

It was a very long labor. That column was out, and Crawford had sent in the one for the next day, before he met Dardenella Jones again. She was after the same thing he was: a better cup of coffee than could be found in the hospital, and had found one in the same place: a donut shop two blocks away.

"She's still in labor?" asked Crawford.

Dardanella Jones said, "Yes, I guess . . . nothing's been happening for awhile. They were talking about a C-section again, but she doesn't want it."

Crawford waited a bit before asking his next question. "Do you think he'll show up?"

She shook her head. "He gave me power of attorney for mama. I got the papers from his lawyer this morning."

"And his wife?"

Dardanella said, "No. Kevin and his wife have that. That's who's with her now. Kevin's wife. She's a nurse."

"I know, I've met her."

She asked, "From when Kev got shot up? At the lake?"

Crawford said, "I was there . . . but I met her before that. Almost a year before. I saw her in that place in Kensington. Are you staying there?"

"No . . . you were in there? They don't let reporters near that place."

Crawford said, "It's been a few years now. What do you think of your brother's friends?"

Dardanella said, "They aren't Marvell's friends. I don't know what to think."

"Do you feel left out?" Crawford asked.

Dardanella said, "I don't think that's your business, Mr. Crawford. I certainly don't want to read about it in the paper."

"You won't unless you talk to someone else. Want to split a Danish?" asked Crawford.

She agreed, after a moment.

* * *

Crawford walked back with Dardenella Jones, learning nothing more important than that she was named after her great grandmother. He honestly wasn't planning on using her to get past the police checking passes, but he did take the opportunity.

Marvell's wife was getting the C-section after all. There was no room for Dardenella, because Marvell had showed up, after all. Shaw was on again, and he wouldn't say how Marvell had gotten in--in fact, he was very short with Crawford, very unlike the man Crawford thought he'd known off and on for so many years. Crawford left, with Dardenella, going to the intensive care ward to wait for Marvell's other errand of the evening. "I told him I want him to see mama once more," said Dardenella. "Before we take her off life support."

They waited about another hour. Then Marvell came down--and Kevin. Dardenella asked, "Where's Minako?"

"I just her on home," answered Kevin. "The kids will be up in a few hours; she needs to get _some_ sleep."

"Oh . . . well, Marvell, what is it?" Dardenella asked.

"A little girl. Jackie Octavia, after Moms and Olivia's moms . . . Who's your new friend?"

"Jack Crawford. I'll leave you now."

They nodded. It was impossible to read Kevin, of course, but Marvell's face was, if anything, a harder mask to penetrate.

On the way out of the ward, he saw Sergeant Shaw again, but they didn't exchange more than nods.

* * *

Dardenella lost her patience. "Marvell, I am _not_ doing this for you! Mama's here because of you!"

Marvell started getting that cold look, and Kevin stepped in between them. "You don't mean that."

Dardenella said, "I don't? I don't? It's true. You know it's true."

Kevin said, "You don't mean to say that now."

"Stop it, Kev," said Marvell.

"Or what?" said Dardenella. "Or you'll shoot him? Or have him shot?"

Marvell looked at her with basilisk eyes. But all he said was: "Leave me alone for a few minutes. A few minutes? You too, Kev."

Kevin was relieved that Dardenella said no more, and left the room. He hobbled out on his canes. He'd used his power to make the sudden move to stop the blowup between Dardenella and Marvell, but now he was in a lot of pain. That was always the price. That is also why he did not notice things that might have made a great difference, if he'd noticed a few seconds sooner . . .

* * *

Sergeant Shaw glanced at his watch, a useless gesture. It told the same time as the wall clock. _When would they pull the lights?_ It was ten minutes since he had "spotted" the officer on this floor; he would be back any time now. The "janitors" were getting restless; someone at the monitors might pick up on that before the power cut off.

Shaw thought this was probably his last chance. Marvell was winning his war; if the Reds didn't kill him tonight, they would make peace. And that peace would have to include giving up Shaw. And Marvell wouldn't stop with Shaw. He would go after his family, too. Laura, and her kids.

It had started so simply . . . a little extra money, not for himself, but for Laura, and her kids. Then, make sure you don't watch someone. Then a dead partner, and a dead woman, and a dead baby.

The only way out after that was to get Marvell. But B.Q. had tried to hit Kevin instead. Shaw had not only bet on the wrong horse, he'd bet on the _worst_ one.

Eleven minutes . . . Marvell and his sister were arguing.

The worst was the Spotts kid . . . he'd been with B.Q. when they met, so he had to go. Van Huff . . . a pleasure. It was too bad he couldn't do the same for Marvell. But if they would just get the power off in time, he'd see Marvell go.

Twelve minutes . . .

Marvell's sister stalked out of the room. She was followed by Kevin, the cripple, moving fast for a man on two canes, making a lot of noise. He did not stop to close the door.

The lights flickered, then went out. Shaw heard one of the "janitors" pulling back a bolt, just as the emergency lamps lit.

* * *

Kevin heard the gunbolt, and he sprang toward the sound, very close. One of the janitors--with an Uzi. He jammed his only whole thumb into the chamber and had it crushed for his troubles. Then he pushed the man back and fell onto him, tearing the gun from his grasp.

He saw the cop drawing his gun. "Watch out, there's another one!" Kevin shouted to the cop.

Then the cop shot him through his head.

* * *

Marvell Jones was flying through the door just as Kevin's brains were flying by it. He fired at the gun flashes. He hit his first target--but he missed the second, and caught most of the burst. His last thought was a question: Why was Dardenella covering him with her body?

* * *

Crawford was spending so much time at Highland he'd taken a room in a motel rather than make the commute back to San Jose. But it was too far to walk, and he discovered his car wouldn't start--probably due to the missing battery and other assorted parts from under the jimmied hood. That's why he was close enough to notice when the hospital lights went out.

As he ran back to the hospital, he found himself closer to the story than he wanted to be. A young man with a machine gun bolted out the door he was planning to go inside, and cut down a hapless cop. He was turning toward Crawford when a shout came from above, "Drop your gun!" The tommy gunner whirled back and started to bring up his gun--and then he convulsed, and fell only a few yards away.

Looking up, Crawford saw something with wings. It resolved itself into the figure of a woman, who flew down, examined the fallen cop, and then flew away, just when the lights of the hospital all came on again. The cop was far beyond help.

Now the tommy gunner was brightly lit by the lights of the entrance. Streams of fluid were oozing from his mouth and nostrils--not blood. It was clear, like water. He looked bloated; his eyes protruded.

Crawford left him and ran inside.

* * *

Five different "blood relatives" of Marvell Jones and his mother had turned up with lawyers. His body lay in the morgue while suit and counter-suit flew. The same struggle kept his mother's body on life support. It was all about the money, of course.

None of them were interested in Kevin Jones, but the medical examiner didn't want to release the body. The M.E. wanted to keep Dardenella, too, but she was a Marine, and the Marines always bring back their dead.

Nine days after the murders in the hospital, Gunnery Sergeant Dardenella Jones was lowered into her grave while a Navy Chaplain said final words. Besides the chaplain and the Marine honor guard, there was her ex-husband, Octavia Jones, and Minako Jones. And Jack Crawford, with no cameraman, no recorder, not even a notebook in his pocket.

Still, Crawford would have liked to talk with the widows after, but the ex-husband insisted on talking. He had the idea that Crawford was there as more than a reporter. Jack surprised himself by answering, "Yes, I think you're right. She was very special . . . More than a story." Then he asked the ex-husband a courtesy question, and that led into a long conversation. By the time Crawford could withdraw gracefully, he knew that the widows were gone.

* * *

Three weeks after the murders, the body of Marvell Jones was released. The funeral came two days after. The Lord of the Blues tied up traffic for over five hours. Crawford wondered why Olivia Jones had allowed it, especially with the accusations that she was not really Jones' widow, and that her child was not his. He did not wonder why her only companion was Minako Jones, who defended her as subtly and as well as she had Lisette Pinatabo. The two women had immense dignity. Crawford was not the only pundit to remark on that.

* * *

The truce that had held until the funeral broke down less than a week later, and Highland Hospital was once more receiving victims of the endless war. The press had long decamped. Crawford had gone to Washington for a week. He returned more to visit old Johnny Shaw more than anything else, but he did ask around about the latest doings of Dr. Chiba and Dr. Mizuno. They were busy. With Dr. Gonsoles and Dr. Han, they were the stars of Trauma in the Bay now--and they were in court a lot, testifying about causes of death, or confirming that, yes, it was _that_ bullet that had been extracted.

"I'm glad as hell they got here in time," said Shaw, after Crawford had brought them up.

Crawford said, "Yes, the OPD would be short a Captain."

Shaw said, "That's just a tombstone rank, Jack. I'm out of the force as soon as they let me out of here."

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah, have to do your own damn work."

Crawford said, "Yes. I heard you were going to Florida."

"You heard right. Orlando. I'll stay with Laura until I can find a place of my own. I'll take the grandkids to Disneyland every week. And I'll go to Fort Lauderdale every spring to watch those college girls get drunk and show their tits. Got _one_ eye left!"

* * *

After he left Shaw, Crawford went to where Jackie Jones was being kept. There were no police to get by now. The blooded tiles had been replaced; the bullets dug out of the plaster and the holes patched and painted over. Jackie Jones wasn't even on the same floor now. She was in an out-of-the-way room shared with another woman, much older, also on a respirator, also waiting to be allowed to die.

Crawford looked at the mother of the druglord, and the crippled man, and the woman he missed more than he should, for about a minute. No one molested him. He was on his way out of the ward and the hospital when he noticed a group in the corridor he was just about to leave.

It was Chiba, and his wife, in her chair. And both of her children.

Crawford stopped to "retie" his shoes in order to watch them.

Dr. Chiba stopped at the nurses' station. He leaned over the counter to say something to the duty nurse. Then they went off with each other. Mrs. Chiba and her children then started coming down the corridor toward Crawford. He rose, and turned the corner, before they noticed, he hoped. But he came back, and he looked down that corridor at just the right time, just when the older girl was turned the other way. Crawford continued on, out of sight again in another second, but he had seen where the older girl had been waiting: just outside of Mrs. Jones' room.

Crawford came back again in twenty minutes. Mrs. Jones was gone from the room. The hospital didn't make the announcement for two more hours.

* * *

The controversy over Jackie Jones death was small. It disappeared completely from the news with her funeral, which coincided with the outbreak of another Middle Eastern war, the largest in more than a decade. Jack Crawford was glad to get away from the devastation Marvell Jones' had left behind him. But he would come back to it . . .

To Be Continued in Book 4: A Year and Change 

* * *

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